I've seen so much
by Banscherus
Summary: Ranma thinks, and hears, and lives... and dies. But is death the end or just the beggining?
1. Prologue: Whispers of the fire

Disclaimer: Well, I guess by now you'd know Ranma ½ and Co. doesn't belong to me, right? All hail Rumiko Takahashi and her staff. Or stuff. Or whatever you want to worship her. But do me a favor and don't sue me. Because that usually tends to kill my inspiration. And inspiration is all I have. Well inspiration and about my world-wide owl collection. But it wouldn't cover the cost of hiring a lawyer and suing me. Nope, not a bit. I would know, after all my brother's a lawyer.  
  
Authors Note: *Note to self: find some other way to call this little rambling.* Ok, this is the first piece of fan fiction I publish, and my third attempt at writing a story (actually my first shot at writing about Ranma ½, I've wrote Evangelion which is really different.) If this offends you in any way, I offer my most sincere apologies. C&C is always welcome, flames are greatly loved (my heater's out unfortunately), but constructive C&C will make you earn a prize! That's right! A prize! Uh... well when I find a prize to give I'll give you one. But you'll get it! Trust me! Ahem.. never mind the last part... I'd also like to ask forgiveness for my bad English, you see it isn't my first language... Oh yeah a pre-reader would be nice... But I can't promise a gift to him/her/them/it!!  
  
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I've seen so much  
A Ranma ½ Fan fiction  
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---------- Prologue ----------  
  
---------------------------------------- Whispers of the fire ------------ -----------------------  
  
One year, so much things can happen in one year. So many things have happened on the time lapse known as one year.  
  
One year ago a plant was just a seed.  
  
One year ago a river could have been just a creek.  
  
One year ago a war could have started.  
  
One year ago an alliance could have been broken.  
  
One year ago a whole family could have died.  
  
Just one year ago, a dream was destroyed.  
  
Coincidence you say? Maybe. Fate? If you're so inclined to believe in those things. Destiny? Who knows.  
  
But one year ago Ranma realized nobody in this world cared about him.  
  
True, a lot of people say to love the martial art's god that so many people in Nerima tend to make out of him, the fiancée so many girls expect to find in him the obedient son, or the manly man, or the beautiful girl, or the handsome guy, or the baka, the sorcerer, Ranma-sama of my dreams, Airen, Ranchan, Saotome, Ranma-kun, Ranko-chan, pigtailed girl, son-in-law.  
  
But nobody actually seemed to care about him.  
  
And just a week ago, while sitting on a run down bench in Nerima's park he reviewed his life and found hate, rage, interest and manipulation.  
  
But what startled him the most was the thing he couldn't find in his whole life.  
  
Hope.  
  
And just yesterday he finally found the exact words which with he could define love, told by him by the least likely person he could think of, a single phrase which would later change his life forever, five words which would mark his life forever, an explanation he didn't think Hinako Nanomiya of all people would give him, a concept so easy even he understood it in a moment yet at the same time so complex his fragile heart was afraid of applying, a feeling so strong his soul sang to the four winds the moment he caught it yet so weak his stomach felt empty and his eyes stung.  
  
Five words which would end life at Nerima as we know it now: 'to love is to forgive.'  
  
Five simple words told in a moment of idleness, five meaningless words which made him hate himself, his life, his father, his fiancées, his sister- in-law, his father-in-law, his martial arts, his unbeatable streak, his mortality and the immortality of his soul.  
  
Five words told to him by a children which made him despise his actions, his words, his hits, his opinions, his mother, his family and his little hell on earth.  
  
Five words which would destroy his home and would create it at the same time.  
  
Five words which would pull him apart piece by piece to let an empty carcass, to be filled later with a living being.  
  
Five easy words which made him awake.  
  
And so in this awakening our story begins.  
  
And a story is nothing without a hero.  
  
But our hero died already.  
  
And so, this story finished before having a chance to begin.  
  
For death is the end of it all.  
  
Or is it...? 


	2. Chapter One: Sounds of despair

This story, as so many before it, starts on a night.  
  
It wasn't a rainy night, not even a cold one.  
  
It wasn't particularly dark or quiet.  
  
It wasn't peaceful as most nights go.  
  
But it was night and a ground rule for Nerima was broken.  
  
Ranma Saotome was awake.  
  
Now being awake isn't unheard of, even in Nerima a place where ghosts walk the streets and world class martial artists destroy them, but there was a written rule everybody knew and nobody dared to inquiry: Ranma Saotome is a heavy sleeper.  
  
How wrong the inhabitants of Nerima were for if Ranma appeared to be a heavy sleeper it was in fact caused by a lack of sleep in the first place. What, you don't believe me? Try sleeping next to a panda. A really loud snoring panda. Whom would steal your covers if you get distracted and sometimes even if you don't. Try to sleep with a battered body, with bruises covering bruises which covers scars. Try sleeping through the nightmares brought to you by a crazy training method made by your stupid father. Who, by the way, is the panda sleeping next to you.  
  
Oh no, Ranma wasn't a heavy sleeper, he just got sleep whenever and wherever he could, be it a soft futon at the Tendou's guest room, a bench on a park, or even a desk at school.  
  
But tonight it wasn't that Ranma was well rested, au contraire he was as tired as ever.  
  
It just was that he couldn't sleep.  
  
Not surprises there, uh?  
  
The surprise would be the task he was doing instead of sleeping.  
  
For you see, Ranma Saotome was thinking.  
  
Yes, even he uses that single neuron form time to time outside of battle.  
  
And he was remembering.  
  
Which is just as hard a task as thinking.  
  
For the if the former was a mental exercise used by every person on earth, the latter was a difficult task for when you remember you dream, and when you dream your hopes can be dashed. And if you lost hope, you become a dead man. And a dead man doesn't win. And don't winning is a concept as alien to him as astrophysics.  
  
But Ranma was remembering, and thinking, trying to look at the things which amused Nabiki, trying to find the cause of Kasumi's 'Oh my', but above all else, trying to picture Akane's smile without remembering an insult thrown to him.  
  
What do you say? Akane insults him because he deserves it? Well he was trying to find guilt then, and if you say it was because he lied to her, he was trying to find the exact moment when the lie came about.  
  
But you can't find what isn't there. For the lie was an omission of truth instead of an alteration of the same. And he didn't lie, he just kept a secret.  
  
As Akane keeps the secret about her mother's death.  
  
As Kasumi keeps the secret about her innate niceness.  
  
As Nabiki keeps the secret about her actual income.  
  
As Genma kept the secret that Ranma's mother was alive.  
  
As Nodoka still keeps the secret of why she married the fat moron in the first place.  
  
And as the universe keeps the secret of life, so did Ranma keep his curse a secret.  
  
Was it his fault Kasumi insisted on him taking a bath?  
  
Was it his fault Akane walked in even knowing Ranma was already inside?  
  
Was it his fault he wanted a friend, a place to call home and people that loved him?  
  
Was it his fault he still had dreams?  
  
Or was it just fate? Fate of never having a friend or a helping hand? Was he destined to never know the love of a mother or the subtle support of a father? Was his life already written before him the moment he was born? If so, Ranma had no choice but to agree to it, and then, surrender to fate.  
  
But Ranma Saotome never surrenders. For to surrender is to lose, and Ranma Saotome doesn't lose!  
  
With the exception being when he loses his friends.  
  
A battle he could never win.  
  
A battle he did never fight.  
  
For Musabetsu Kakoutu Ryuu is a technique of the body, a path of the fists, of the warrior.  
  
And he needs a path for the soul and the heart and the mind.  
  
And to escape this loneliness which is eating him alive.  
  
And so Ranma Saotome thought, and remembered, and smiled and cried.  
  
And so Ranma Saotome started the path of the gods.  
  
For he was flirting with the devil himself.  
  
And as dawn approaches Nerima, and the first light of the sun brings new life to every house, and the songs of birds bring smiles to those who are able to hear them, and as Kasumi rises from bed to cook breakfast, and as Akane awakes to start her morning jog, Ranma Saotome lies down to sleep.  
  
For a new day has come.  
  
And Ranma Saotome has made a choice.  
  
He won't lose!  
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I've seen so much  
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---------- Chapter one ----------  
  
---------------------------------------- Sounds of despair ---------------  
--------------------  
  
Morning has come to the Tendo dojo as it does everyday, with the mouth watering scents of Kasumi's freshly cooked breakfast, with the tired moans coming from Nabiki's room, with the sight of one Tendo Soun, master of the house, tumbling down the hall to the bathroom. And with the complimentary cry of "You're getting sloppy boy! Time to train!" and as is usual for the dojo, with the sight of a young pigtailed man sailing through the air to land in the small and, until then, peaceful koi pond.  
  
A splash, a couple curses thrown in for good measure, and two seconds later there's a young girl with vibrant red hair facing a burly, bald middle aged man and yelling "Whaddaya do that for oyaji!" and getting as the answer, as is typical, a kick to the head, or an attempt at one as the girl evades nimbly.  
  
And so as the battle, although if you were to ask the participants they'd call it 'sparring', goes on in the backyard another young girl, with short blue-black hair, dressed in what appears to be jogging clothes, comes into the house, sweating.  
  
And as this girl steps into the backyard and finishes the battle with a not- so-subtle cry of "Keep it down you morons!" and an even less subtle barbell thrown to the other girl's head, and as a bald man celebrates while chanting "That'll teach you to respect your elders boy!", and as a third girl steps into the porch overlooking the yard while shaking slightly her head and whispering something along the lines of "Saotome, Saotome.", and as a fourth girl hums a song to herself as she brings the plates out to eat, a gentle breeze blows, not caring in the slightly about the events happening here, and as the wind goes on it's way, all is quiet at the Tendo dojo, as it always is.  
  
Or so Kasumi likes to think, and that's how Akane would usually define her house when there isn't any of Ranma's fiancées nearby, and this is how Nabiki commonly finds her home. But to a young god slayer named Ranma Saotome, this isn't peaceful.  
  
As it hasn't been for more than a year.  
  
And as he thinks while pretending to be unconscious, he cries.  
  
Not with tears falling from his eyes.  
  
Not sobbing loudly.  
  
Not even a sigh is heard from him.  
  
But the weeping is there, if hidden from view.  
  
For a man amongst men doesn't cry. And so he thinks, and wishes, and resents, and laments, and rages, and curse, and despair.  
  
But he doesn't cry.  
  
And as his tears soil his soul something starts fading.  
  
And when it fades completely, so will he.  
  
But he doesn't care about it, in fact he seems to expect it.  
  
For is a way out.  
  
Without losing honor, or freedom, or his name, or his family.  
  
For if he loses his life, what will be there to bind him?  
  
But as he accepts this truth, and as his eyes open to a reality no one, not god or demon, wishes to be aware of. As he makes his first, and last, own decision. Life goes on.  
  
And as life goes on, Ranma discovers his food plate empty, the furo cold and his mind numb.  
  
And as Ranma weeps for that which is holding him, and that which will set him free, Nabiki leaves to school, and Kasumi cleans the dishes, and Genma in union with Soun start their never ending game of shoji, and Akane takes his pigtail and runs to school, dragging him behind with only the faint explanation of "Hurry baka we're going to be late!"  
  
And so life for Ranma goes on, but he doesn't seem to realize, doesn't seem to even care.  
  
For as Ryoga attacks him with his cry of "Ranma, prepare to die!" he doesn't acknowledge his presence, instead walking away from the battle without turning even once in his direction, for if his life is forfeit, then everything and everyone is too.  
  
And as Ranma ignores the fanged boy's attack, and doesn't seem to mind Shampoo's embrace, and doesn't look Ukyo's way when in front of her restaurant, and as he doesn't answer any of Akane's questions thrown his way, the wind goes on traveling.  
  
And wind brings change.  
  
And change is about to happen, for Nerima has forgotten to forgive Ranma's faults, and the rivals seem to forget Ranma's prowess which allowed him to kill a god, and the fiancées don't see, or don't want to see, Ranma's indifference towards them, and Tofu is out of town, and Cologne is too busy trying to salvage Ranma's relationship towards Shampoo, and Happosai is too busy running from mad armed women, and the Kunos. go on with being Kunos.  
  
And as the wind of change blows across Nerima, and a storm so strong none alive remember approaches the city's limit, the last string, the drop that broke through the glass that supply as Ranma's heart, the final bit of craziness left for the total annihilation of a hero's happiness is walking towards the Tendo dojo.  
  
And as a knock sounds on the door and Kasumi goes to answer it, Ranma forgets life.  
  
And when the only voice Ranma has ever heard talking to him in something akin to love is heard throughout the property.  
  
The invincible heart of our hero stops.  
  
For you see, Nodoka Saotome has come.  
  
And she looks determined.  
  
And the sword isn't wrapped in silk anymore. And the girl standing next to her doesn't seem to fare well for Ranma.  
  
For the only words she spoke were: "Son, we need to talk."  
  
And so, Ranma's life has met an end, against a foe he could never defeat.  
  
A foe so powerful there's never been a technique able to even touch it.  
  
A foe he has fought all his life.  
  
A foe whom, ultimately, took his life in a final clash.  
  
And whom destroyed him totally and ruthlessly.  
  
A foe named simply Destiny.  
  
A.N. This is set about a week after the wedding incident. And Ranma has been thinking a lot about his life. Name it depression, I call it reality. But oh well, who I am to determine how to call it? Oh yeah I'm the author. *insert evil laugh here* Who's the girl that came with Nodoka? What has Nodoka to tell to Ranma? Why is Ranma fighting destiny? Who is destiny? What is the secret ingredient of Coca Cola? If you're asking yourself the same questions then I may be doing a good job. And if you know the answer to the last one send it to me! No, really! No suing, please, Coca Cola and the Coca Cola's bottle design are copyright of The Coca Cola company. No offense meant to them. Ah! One last piece of nonsense coming outta my mouth. Drink water, lots and lots of water! End the big companies! Long life to water!!!! But please, save the beer!!!!! 


	3. Chapter two: A blind man's tears

A day.  
  
A day can change our lives forever.  
  
But a moment can end it.  
  
And the end is just that.  
  
For we can not survive death.  
  
And death is what Ranma Saotome found today.  
  
For today, for the first time in his life Ranma found his mind failed him, and his martial arts deserted him.  
  
For he can't fight his own mother.  
  
And ultimately, his mother was his death.  
  
"Ranma, we need to talk" Five words spoken by his mother, and as five words previously told to him by a young teacher, these had a profound effect on his mind, on his own life.  
  
For this words, coupled with the girl looking at him as if he was the lowest piece of thrash on the planet spoke doom to him.  
  
And if Ranma knows something, it is to detect danger.  
  
And right now all of his senses were screaming at him to run, to turn his back to his family and fiancées and run away as fast as his legs could carry him.  
  
And his mind was throwing a fit at his feet for not complying.  
  
But his honor held stead. And honor demanded he stood and listened, and thought, and accepted.  
  
And he always listened to honor.  
  
For honor was the only thing separating him from becoming his father.  
  
So, amid the suppressive silence reigning in the Tendo household, he nodded and took a seat by the table.  
  
And so, in front of all the Tendos, Ranma faced death to the eyes and smiled.  
  
And so in the face of death Ranma found forgiveness.  
  
And in doing so. Ranma found love.  
  
As usual, Kasumi brought tea to the guests.  
  
And Nabiki was thinking on what would be so important for Mrs. Saotome as to make her walk all the way here unannounced.  
  
And Akane was fidgeting under the table, not meeting anyone's eyes.  
  
And Soun was crying enough to form a small lake.  
  
And Genma was in the backyard playing with a tire while holding a sign proclaiming 'I'm just a cute Panda'.  
  
And Ranma. Ranma was seated across his mother looking into her eyes with defiance in his own.  
  
And the silence was broke by a word.  
  
A word often spoke with great feeling.  
  
A word Ranma had never heard his mother say.  
  
A word which dashed all hopes of this being resolved peacefully.  
  
"Sorry"  
  
And with that one word, the life at Nerima took an unexpected turn.  
  
And the legend was born.  
  
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I've seen so much  
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---------- Chapter two ----------  
  
---------------------------------------- A blind man's tears -------------- ---------------------  
  
Not a single sound could be heard in all the Dojo after Nodoka's quiet word, Akane was, if possible, even more worried, Soun stopped crying and stared at Nodoka as if she was a snake ready to bite him in a moment's notice, Kasumi brought her hands to cover her mouth not finding the strength to even mutter her widely known 'oh my', Nabiki seemed to lose all composure as well as all her facial coloration, Genma paled and his eyes seemed to be ready to burst out of his head any minute now.  
  
And Ranma simply gazed at the table ignoring her mother's attempts at an explanation and the girl's smug expression.  
  
And the table didn't hold all the answer, it wasn't new not old, it wasn't speaking or shaking.  
  
The table just stood there.  
  
But maybe what's important lies on the table, for Nodoka had unwrapped her katana.  
  
And the handle was facing Ranma.  
  
And three words spoken by the girl broke the silence as if a signal was cast.  
  
"Do it Ranma" said she.  
  
And the dojo, as it's wound to do, exploded into sound and frantic questioning.  
  
But Ranma didn't say a word, merely gazing at the sword.  
  
For he expected any foe to defeat him.  
  
But he didn't expect Ukyo to ask for his life.  
  
Why did she do it? One can only hope to understand, maybe it was desperation at knowing Ranma would never be hers, maybe it was a tiny bit of hate towards the old friend who betrayed her when she was just a little kid.  
  
Or maybe, just maybe, she was tired of hoping.  
  
And while Kasumi sobbed silently and Nabiki was petrified at knowing this wasn't a bad dream, Akane just sat there staring at Ranma, seeing his shoulders tremble slightly and his hands shake ever so often.  
  
But above all else she saw his eyes, the eyes of a blind man who sees the light for the first time after a lifetime full of darkness.  
  
Eyes that spoke of pain, and loneliness beyond everything she has ever known, eyes which had seen the moon as his only friend for countless nights, and had asked the stars for answers, and had begged the sun for a chance at having a normal life.  
  
And in those eyes, in a moment, she saw the truth behind Ranma Saotome, the real face obscured by the mask of a powerful and overconfident martial artist.  
  
For in those eyes, Akane saw a child lose in a world he doesn't understand, and a man trying to live a live he didn't ask for. And in that moment, when Ranma had to take the most important decision in his life Akane saw the truth. And the truth always hurts as confirmed by her tears.  
  
Kasumi, always sweet young Kasumi, just fixed her eyes on Ranma's eyes trying to understand, to get a glimpse of his feelings, wishing to be able to help him as he had helped her younger sister on so many occasions without a doubt.  
  
Nabiki, Nabiki just sat there and gaped all around not making any sense out of this situation, but understanding in a primal level that this battle was lost before it even began, and feeling powerless in front of a foe Ranma is too scared to fight.  
  
Soun, however, understood the gravity of the situation, he understood the way Nodoka gazed at her son, he for the first time since his wife died didn't shed a tear, for this was something Ranma and his mother had to resolve on their own, for honor demanded Ranma complied to the request, and Soun, in a moment of rage hated Genma above all else in this world, and in a moment of clarity lost all fear to the master, and in just a moment of clarity he saw the world without a dream keeping him alive for that dream was about to die, and he spoke, in a grave voice, a serious voice that wasn't heard at that home for over ten years, the voice of a powerful martial arts master and a respected resident of Nerima, he spoke as his daughters so many years hoped for him to speak, signing Ranma's decision in an instant, for he just said "Girls, let Ranma decide on his own."  
  
While Genma, when facing reality used to run away all the time, today he changed, and the change came too late for him, for his heir had to choose, death if he rejects her mother's decision, death if he rejects his heart's choice.  
  
And when you watch the work of a lifetime drop in an instant, when you can not help but be an spectator as your dreams are flushed like a leaf by the river, you must face the truth, and the truth was Genma's mistakes were catching up faster than he could run, and the mistakes were his own doing, but the price was high, maybe too high, and, for the first time since trapping the master in that god forsaken cave, Genma knew real fear, not the fear of dying he so commonly tried to eradicate from Ranma's mind, but the fear of impotence.  
  
The fear of knowing he was death.  
  
And the horror of knowing, death is unbeatable.  
  
For Ranma could not, would not fight his own death.  
  
And so, Genma cried for all his dreams, he cried as he never had cried before, he shed tears for the death of a friendship, for the death of the love he might have felt for his wife at one time.  
  
And Genma shed tears, for Ranma had picked up the sword instead of Ukyo's hand.  
  
And Ukyo stared at Ranma with a heartbroken expression on her face, regretting now her decision of telling Nodoka about Ranma's choice so many years ago, crying as she remembered the little boy she used to know, who played with her without a doubt in this world, who was made her fiancée by their fathers.  
  
And she denied the sight her eyes were giving her, of the boy who stole her heart picking death over a life along her, picking the sword instead of her hand, the sight of Ranma giving up even before the fight begun, and she raged against Genma for making Ranma his escape goat, she hated Nodoka for making Ranma commit seppuku to redeem his name, she despised the Tendos for not giving Ranma a chance to grow, a chance to live, an opportunity to love.  
  
And she despaired as Ranma took the sword out of it's sheath and examined it, as if seeing the truth behind all the questions he ever asked written on it's shiny surface, and she died along Ranma when the sword's tip entered his chest, when his eyes didn't close to get peace but stayed open as his precious blood dripped on the floor, as he stared defiantly to the heavens, as if daring the gods to come down and fight him.  
  
And she cried for her ultimatum, which in the end made Ranma's hope die.  
  
And she regretted her words, spoken in a moment of confusion, words that she'd regret the rest of her life.  
  
"Choose carefully Ran-Chan, it's my hand and life, or the sword and death."  
  
And so, amid a maelstrom of feelings surrounding him, amid the incredulous gazes of what he used to call friends Ranma picked death over life.  
  
A life he didn't ask for, and a life he didn't want.  
  
And Nodoka stared, with no more tears to shed for her only son, for her heart had accepted his indomitable spirit, her soul had loved his unbeatable will, and her mind had given him death.  
  
And while her heart blackened and died as his own son drowned in blood and sorrow she got a revelation, for she wasn't seeing a boy pretending to be a man, but a man who never was a boy.  
  
For his life had ended the day he stepped away from home, the day he signed that seppuku contract.  
  
And for more than ten years Ranma hadn't lived a single day as he'd wanted it.  
  
And for more than ten years Ranma hadn't known peace.  
  
A peace he found in the cold tip of a steel sword imbedded in his heart while his hands gripped the handle tightly.  
  
And Nodoka stopped seeing a man wanting to be a kid, or a martial arts wanting to win over all odds, or an insensitive jerk trying to win the love and acceptance of his dear ones.  
  
For today, when Ranma fell to the floor with a dull look in his lifeless eyes and a smile plastered on his face Nodoka saw the real truth behind that gray blue eyes always full of life.  
  
For today, when facing death and accepting it, Nodoka saw a hero.  
  
The hero most girls at Furinkan High made out of him.  
  
The hero doctor Tofu saw in a hurt boy cursed to become a girl.  
  
The same hero Cologne saw in a boy who bested her great grand daughter in combat.  
  
The very same hero's soul Happosai and Ryoga and Mousse and so many other tried to crush time and again.  
  
The hero who was nothing but a boy when he stepped away from home, who faced tribulations beyond anything a young child had to suffer.  
  
The hero who faced cats inside a dark pit with tears in his eyes and cries for help in his mouth, but without fear in his soul.  
  
The hero who wrote new legends, and destroyed old ones.  
  
And today, she accepted her son truly, for this hero was indeed a man among men.  
  
But today, among the people he cared so much for, the hero fell.  
  
And when heroes fall the world weeps.  
  
For when a hero can't fight anymore, legends are born and are finished.  
  
As the legend of a brave young man who faced down dragons and gods had come to an end, so must a new legend be born.  
  
A legend of trials, trials by blood and tears, trials by pain and despair.  
  
But above all. trials of life.  
  
And this, this is nothing but the first trial he had to ace.  
  
To die and to be reborn, for heroes don't die.  
  
They rest.  
  
And as his rest began the shrine in the dojo broke down, and the shoji board split in two.  
  
And Cologne wept in her restaurant without knowing why.  
  
And Ryoga felt a shiver run up his spine.  
  
And Happosai lost a pair of panties when he felt the winds of change blow stronger than ever.  
  
And Genma gave his son the respect due to a hero.  
  
And Soun brought the body to the dojo and burned it down, for a dojo without a master is nothing but a building occupying space and Ranma always was the rightful master of Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu.  
  
And Akane wept as she held Kasumi fiercely, wept for the loss of her love, a love both of them never gave the chance to grow.  
  
And Shampoo suddenly felt alone.  
  
And Mousse saw his glasses crack before his eyes.  
  
And Tofu ran back to Nerima as fast as his legs would carry him.  
  
And while the dojo burnt with flames rising to the skies in defiance, as if honoring the hero that rested inside this raging inferno.  
  
And as every body stared at the flames with sadness in their hearts.  
  
Nobody saw the flash of light behind the dojo.  
  
A.N. Well I'm sorry it took so long to write this, it isn't easy, I have to give a feeling of his death, although I admit it seems kind of rushed at this point. But to tell the truth I'm not so good at writing death scenes.  
  
In other topics, I'd like to thank everybody that has reviewed this little fragment of my imagination (it's just my imagination.. I don't know the name of that song, but I like it ( )  
  
Again I offer an apology if my English isn't well written, but it isn't my first language.  
  
Bans. off! 


	4. Chapter Three: Rain at pointblank

Light.

So many things happen when light is present.

When light first comes to a child's eyes he marvels at the world.

When light meets the plant's leaves they live.

When light reaches the darkest corner in a room, the dark is no more.

And so, this story begins with light.

A flash of light so intense it could burn a page of paper to a crisp in an instant.

A flash of light so small, nobody would perceive it even in the darkest of nights.

And light was what Ranma saw when death took over his body.

And in boldness Ranma rejected the light.

For to accept the light would mean to lose.

And he remembered his promise made in a dark night with an almost destroyed soul.

A promise only he remembers, for only he knows.

Ranma Saotome WON'T LOSE!!!

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I've seen so much

A Ranma ½ Fan fiction

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The sky roared and the earth shivered when the first stroke of lighting fell.

And the tree at the Tendo's yard thrashed around under the strong winds pounding it.

And Akane trembled when the first drops of rain fell down on her small frame.

And Kasumi cried alongside the sky as she saw Ranma's remains burn with the dojo.

And Nabiki retreated into herself as the winds howled with a viciousness never before seen in Nerima.

And Nodoka stared at the dojo without shedding a tear, wanting with all her heart to take back the threat made to Ranma in an instant of rage.

And Ukyo wept on the floor as she saw her dreams blaze away.

And Genma cried as he saw his hope die in concert with his son.

And Soun. . . Soun didn't shed a tear, for as Ranma died with courage on his heart and resolve in his eyes he was reborn.

And Cologne rushed back to the Tendo dojo, knowing that whatever had happened had to be one way or another linked to Ranma.

And Shampoo ran alongside her, panting and wheezing as she struggled to keep pace with her elderly relative.

And Mousse ran following them, feeling fear beyond everything he had felt in his entire life.

And Ryoga turned a corner to gaze upon the spectacle of the dojo burning to the ground.

And Tatewaki declaimed poems trying to overcome the feeling of death present on the air.

And Kodachi took care of her plants ignoring the tears falling from her eyes.

And Tofu . . . Tofu ran to the Tendo's place as if the world depended on him arriving on time.

And while all this happened, and while Nerima was suddenly cast in silence, and while the canals struggled to keep the water from overflowing them, Happosai ran away from the Tendo dojo.

And tried to revive his heir.

The only boy he would dearly loved to call son.

For Happosai couldn't let Ranma die.

For if Ranma died, then Musabetsu Kakuto would die with him.

For even if he was the art's grandmaster, Ranma was the art incarnated.

And so, Happosai ran away, trying to save him while the winds razed all around him.

And so, the first line was written.

For the hero could still be saved.

And demons can always be redeemed.

----------------------------------------            Chapter three    -----------------------------------------------

If you were to see Nerima from an air view, as if flying aboard a helicopter, you wouldn't see the sub-urban district of Tokyo so famous for it's international airport, neither would you see people roaming the streets or children playing at the parks or an incredible duel between super powered martial artists.

What you would see this night if you happened to be flying over Nerima would be a quiet city wrapped up in a fierce storm, you'd see fallen trees lining the parks and parked cars by the side of the roads. You'd see desolation beyond your wildest dreams.

But above all else, if you were flying over Nerima in this particular night, you'd see the candor of  a burning property with it's flames rising high into the skies as if daring the storm to put an end to the raging inferno. And if you'd happened to be walking on the streets of Nerima you'd feel a sadness shared by all the city's populace. And if you were to strain your ears, you'd be almost able to hear a loud cry coming from the Tendo dojo. A cry of death as Saotome Ranma fell.

-------------------------------------------------- Rain at point-blank  -----------------------------------

When Ranma opened his eyes in what felt to him a long time, what greeted him was darkness making him wonder if his fight was lost, making his mind race with the thoughts of defeat, a concept he never knew before, and an idea that became his greatest fear as time went on.

For his only defeat was at the hands of cats a lifetime ago, a defeat he spent the last ten years trying to overcome.

And if his defeat had arrived now, wouldn't there be light instead of darkness? If his life had finished, wouldn't his soul know peace and his heart know reprieve?

And the truth of his situation came when he tried to move, to sit on the hard surface he was feeling under his back, a truth he knew perfectly well, for this truth was the only constant in his young life, pain.

And as he felt pain he remembered the last moments when his body felt heat further than what Saffron would be able to produce, and his soul felt emptiness greater than all other feeling in his life.

For he remembered the cold steel entering his heart, he remembered the hotness of tears running down his eyes in a battle he couldn't postpone any longer, and he felt peace and acceptance and love when his breath failed him and his vision started to swim.

And he recalled hearing Ukyo's pleas to stop and take her hand instead of the blade, and he remembered Akane's cries for his eyes to open, and he remembered Genma cursing the fate that brought Ranma to take his decision.

And he recollected hearing the quiet sobs coming from a heartbroken Kasumi, a sound so soft that he probably would forget it the next day, but with a feeling so fierce that he was sure would haunt him for the rest of his days. And he kept in his mind the quiet negatives forming in Nabiki's lips asking the world to tell her this was a bad dream. And his mind recalled Soun with a fire he had never seen in his eyes and a strength he never had seen in his posture.

But above all else he remembered his mother's eyes, staring at him without shedding a tear, as if looking at a stranger's death instead of his own son's.

And for that Ranma made a second promise, a pledge stronger than any other he had made in his whole life.

A vow to live, and live to the fullest.

And an oath to be the man any mother would be proud of.

But thinking can be as strenuous as running a marathon, as demonstrated by him falling unconscious right after making this promise.

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For hours had the dojo burnt and the flames rose to the skies.

But eventually the storm was greater than the maelstrom, and the conflagration died.

And all that was left were once stood a proud dojo, were cold ashes and old memories.

Memories of a lifetime of training endured by the youngest Tendo daughter, memoirs of happy times when the dojo was alive and the students poured into it to learn the strongest martial art ever created by man.

And reminiscences of a young pigtailed man sweating and grunting as he strived to exceed his limits, memories of a red-haired girl sitting on the floor trying to take control of her life energies to beat an unbeatable foe.

And the memory of gray-blue eyes with a fire burning inside them that defied the world and it's rules everyday by just living.

And as everyone of the group present remembered tales of a boy fighting the orochi, of a young man confronting the prince of a long lost empire, of a martial artist making the unfeasible achievable as he faces down a phoenix god, a creature used to scare young amazons who didn't want to train, and defeating him in a cry of boldness, more tears fell to the ground, tears of sadness for the lose of a fiancée and friend, and tears of regret for what never was but always had the chance to be.

And as the floor collected the tears, the sky poured rain as if sharing the pain.

And as the storm raged on, the people were forced inside the house for shelter and the silence was deafening and the atmosphere thick.

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An unknown ceiling was what greeted Ranma's eyes the second time his eyes opened.

But he wasn't surprised, for an unknown ceiling had been his entire life, a life on the road making friends and getting enemies. A life his father took from him before he had the chance to know any better, so this ceiling didn't faze Ranma one bit.

And as he laid there staring unto the ceiling and wishing for the ability to gaze upon the stars as he did on so many lonely nights a sound reached his ears.

The only sound that made him want to kill.

A voice telling him three words which filled him with dread making a shiver run down his spine as he realized his own lack of ability to fight, "Ranma, my boy."

And as he tried to call forth a little bit of ki, a spark that would, hopefully, ignite his body into action and his limbs into movement he heard the same voice telling him that everything would be alright, that death was not the end, but the beginning, and telling him that redemption was close, for a being he considered a demon saved him, and a pervert who used to fondle his cursed body had been an angel of mercy when he needed one the most.

And as he heard the softly spoken "you should rest" his strength left him once again, and his eyes closed.

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Night had fell a long time ago over Nerima but rest was far away from the inhabitants minds.

For the air felt thick, and the gale razed on, and the canals overflowed, and roads were closed.

And death was present in the heavens, making the beggars shiver on cold, dark corners, and causing mothers to hold their children close.

And as the martial artists that reside in Nerima felt the heavy ki blanketing the area, a ki dark enough to instigate shivers of fright on the most hard-edged veteran of war, and a chill so cold that fire was not enough to warm the fingers on sweaty hands, Tofu ran.

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The dojo's doors were closed this night and the lights out save for one.

And Cologne arrived at the place to be greeted by a feel of death that vibrated with her aged bones.

And Shampoo gasped when she saw the remains of the once proud dojo, a building she secretly admired.

And Mousse tried not to shiver as the rain pounded on him with the strength of guilt, and the winds buffeted him with the coldness of solitude.

And as one they turned to rest their frightened eyes upon the threshold of the house proper.

And the only explanation they'd need laid there, on a hard cold floor, unmoving and uncaring as inflexible truths always are, and their eyes rested upon the lone figure of a sharp steel sword whose edge glistened in the meager light of night.

And their hearts skipped a beat, as the blade was covered in blood.

And Ranma was nowhere in sight.

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Some people say the loss of a loved one can shake whole families, and Soun found that the loss of his wife was nothing but the prelude to a great sadness, a sorrow so big that Kasumi's smile melted under the stress felt in this night, and a grief so weighty that he saw his loved ones fall apart piece by piece.

And the martial artist could do nothing as Nabiki left her tears fall since her mother died, and he watched helplessly as Akane cried with heartbreaking sobs that tore at his own core bit by bit.

And as he turned his sight away from his family, not being strong enough to help them, looking for the hidden strength that he knew so well rested inside his old friend Genma, his heart felt cold, for his friend was nothing more than a shadow, a mirage so vague his vision blurred when trying to compare what his eyes told him with what his mind knew and his tears threatened to spill in spite of his best efforts not to cry, and he cursed his own weakness as the first drop fell from his eyes.

And for once he cried with heartfelt emotion, with the same sentiment he had cried the night his wife had kissed him good-bye, and with the emotion of a man crying not for lost dreams or shattered hopes but for the loss of a life.

And as his tears fell his soul was cleaned.

And in this cleanliness he found peace.

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Tired eyes opened a third time, and as twice before gazed upon a strange ceiling.

But for once he didn't feel alone, for tiny aged hands placed a cold compress on his forehead and a wrinkled face usually adorned with a sneer was now looking at him with esteem, with, dare he hope, love.

And he struggled to sit, to tell the old man what his heart felt, to relate with this withered shelf of a man the gratitude his heart suffered, to for once in his life let all masks drop, and search for approval in the eyes of a master, and a pervert.

But the struggles were in vain, for even if his will was strong, the flesh was weak, and his chest burned with pain every time his muscles tightened and his head troubled him when his arms started to move.

And so he laid down again, and closed his eyes, not feeling the same tiredness from before, but getting the notion of things becoming better, and of sunny days replacing the shady nights of his dreams, and of acquaintances becoming friends.

And as his eyes closed, he didn't see the shape running by the window.

And as his body slept, he didn't see Tofu dash past the decayed house Happosai had carried him to.

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A secret love can sometimes be a blessing, the beam of radiance that gives you the strength to rise and face each day with it's evils with courage in your eyes and tenacity in your spirit.

And Akane had had a secret love for a long time now, a love she dared not reveal for fear of her father marrying her the instant she said 'I love you'.

And this night, Akane damned her own insecurities for keeping her away from Ranma, and she cursed his own shortages for keeping the both of them away, always holding the other at arm's length, and always wishing to be together as they'd never wished for any other thing before.

And as she felt her tears fall she raged against the world for making her temper hurt Ranma time and again and she fumed for his own insensitivity making her doubt her own feelings, making her turn her head away form the only emotion she knew was real in her own heart.

And as she smelt the smoke coming form the dojo she despaired as her heart would never be whole again, as her dreams were washed away by the storm raging outside, and as Kasumi brought her a warm blanket to keep her from getting sick she cried her eyes out for making her family worry for her welfare.

And as her gloominess grew she dared to hope love would come again, and she made an oath to live, for even if Ranma was dead he had saved her over all odds, and this time the battle would be in her own hands.

And she, as Ranma, never gave up on a fight.

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As the dogs howled it's own cries for the loss of one of Nerima's greatest inhabitants, and as Mr. Turtle happily ate a mouse thrown into the pond by Sasuke, Kodachi tended to her plants.

And made plans to snare Ranma the next time, and formed ideas on how to save her Ranma-Sama from the evil wretched Tendo Akane.

But as this ideas formed on her mind she knew, knew in a primeval level that all was for naught, for Sasuke had come from the Tendo dojo a while back with the news of the events transpiring there.

And as she heard her brother rave on and on about how the dark sorcerer had decided to run from his own noble hands, and as she saw her latest brew effervesce on the fire, her tears fell.

For even if she was a Kuno, and even if as a Kuno she had the power to rule Nerima at her will without fear of reprisal, being a Kuno didn't give her the power to change the past.

And in the past laid the truth.

And the truth was, Saotome Ranma had died.

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The heart is a mysterious variable in every human being.

And to try and dominate the heart's desire is as foolish as hoping one day one will have no worries in this life.

And Nabiki had tried her whole life to dominate her heart, to rein in her emotions, for to feel is to hurt, and to hurt is to be weak.

And weakness is a distinct antagonism in business.

And as she gave up on her dreams when her mother died and closed her heart to those not of her family, her hopes diminished a lot.

And as her expectations lessened so did her friends and her love life.

And her spirit rose to the sky when a fiancée was announced for them, a boy that didn't knew of her reputation as an ice queen, a man that would probably look at her the way she oh so desired to be looked at.

And was disappointed when instead of a man, instead of a prince who would take her away from this life full of boredom and loneliness she found a girl, and in that girl she found a child.

And she denied to hope, and killed her dreams, and closed her heart, and dried her eyes in a pillowcase the day he came into her life.

And she tried to hate him, and made his life hell, and blackmailed him, and took every penny he ever made, and saw him as nothing worth of her attention.

But as her struggles grew, as she tried everything she could think of to make Ranma hate her, and see her as nothing but a cold woman, her fight was lost.

For Ranma was not an ordinary man, he wasn't a boy she could intimidate, for as he tried to meet her eyes every time they crossed words and fidgeted whenever she spoke to him, he also made her eyes open to see a truth everybody else either ignored or choose to ignore.

Ranma was not a ladies' man for he never knew how to be with a girl without freaking out, he wasn't just a dumb jock who couldn't ace math if his life depended on it for his grades, if not excelsior, were enough to pass, even if his education was spotty at best, he concealed a mind as sharp as hers, as proven when he learnt the Katchuu Tenshin Amaguriken in under a month with his inability to resist the heat, as attested again when he learned the Hiryu Shoten Ha in just one night without knowing the secret behind the technique.

And she saw the thing that made all the girls at Furinkan wish to be in Akane's place, if even for just one day. And she discovered why none of the fiancées gave up.

For the Saotome charm was there, or should she call it, the Ranma charm, for his father obviously lacked it.

And as she struggled to close her heart off from Ranma's native charm, she failed.

And in a moment, when her control fell, her heart revived, and her hopes were reborn as she dared to dream.

That someday Ranma would see beyond her uncaring mask, that one day Ranma would realize she was the one for him.

And this day, her hopes died again.

And she was hurt.

Hurt as much as her mother had hurt her with her death.

And in her hands laid a single brooch, not worth a yen, obviously made by the unskilled hands of Ranma.

A brooch given to her on her birthday.

With the inscription on the back making her soul cry and her heart ache.

'You should smile more'.

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And as the storm raged on, and as the winds howled with a fierceness that seemed unnatural, Tofu ran.

And even as his legs moved with speeds he was greatly unused to he felt the reality tap his shoulder in a cold embrace.

And as his jump cleared the wall surrounding the Tendo dojo, and his eyes rested upon the three amazons staring into the house with resignation in their eyes, he fell to his knees and cried.

And from his hands fell a piece of paper, a note scribbled with a messy writing.

A message given to him by a young hero on a cold night.

Three words he had ignored a long time, too long a time.

'Please, help me.'

And as his tears fell he knew the truth.

He had been the only one to know Ranma was tired of living a life chosen for him instead of by him.

And the only one to see Ranma knew more than he let on.

And he cried for is inability to save a hero.

And as his cry of  "No" reached every corner in the city, the rain fell.

And when rain falls at point-blank, the souls are purified.

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A.N. Well there it is! The third chapter in this little thing I'm writing. And my longest one to date. I believe these four chapters (four, for I'm including the prologue) should really be considered the prologue of the story . . . well either way this chapter is complete and it finishes Ranma's time in Nerima.

Now you'd probably thinking "Happosai being a paternal figure to Ranma? Nabiki getting a brooch made by him? Kodachi crying? Tofu screaming? Is this guy on drugs? Why doesn't he share a bit?" and in answer here comes, bow to my great wisdom!! *insert evil laugh here*

1) Happosai obviously has some paternal instincts as proven by the time he saved Hinako Nanomiya, and yes, I think he would make everything in his power to save Ranma even if only to save Ranma-Chan!

2) The brooch idea was given to me by another fic " A gift beyond words by Getzeye Dragon", well in that fic it was a rose, but I like the idea of a brooch better, and the inscription is based on the anime episode when Ranma tells Akane she looks cute when smiling, then he tells her "You should smile more"

3) I imagine that Kodachi would cry for something, after all she must have cried when her mother died, no?

4) Well if we've seen Tofu dance with a skeleton, how hard is it to picture him screaming when he finds out someone who asked for his help is dead?

5) No, l I'm not into drugs.

6) I don't like to share a lot of things, but I'd gladly accept some!!

Well, that took care of there's just one more thing to say. . .

Bans . . . off!


	5. Chapter Four: Moon's Memories

A minute sound.

A sound so small it can be ignored by anyone.

A sound so great no silence is able to withhold it.

The sound of rain drops falling on a roof.

That was the only sound Ranma was able to hear at that time.

A sound that gave him comfort in spite of his injuries.

A sound that made his mind dream, and his hope surge.

And a sound that was driving him crazy.

Destroying his mind piece by piece as with each drop a memory was relived.

And with each remembrance brought to mind, his heart suffered.

For even if the memories were long forgotten, and his will was strong, these memories weren't nice.

No, definitely not nice at all.

For these were memories of a family he never got to know.

And of a love he never got to live.

Remembrances of times when a day was easier to live than the last.

And of a time when the future held promises of life, and happiness, and above all else, when the future held an offering of love.

A time destroyed in a second.

A time his feverish mind was hell bent on recall.

And so, as the quiet sounds of rain falling on a roof made him dream, his memories surfaced, and in surfacing, his memories gave him the strength to live on.

It was his memories that showed him the way to win a clash no mortal had fought before.

An approach to overcome destiny.

And to break out of fate.

****************************************

I've seen so much

A Ranma ½ Fan fiction

****************************************

----------------------------------------            Chapter Four     -----------------------------------------------

**********     Moon's Memories     **********

Tired eyes opened to the world once again, but unlike before they didn't rest on a ceiling he was getting used to know, neither did they catch a glimpse of an old man tending to his wound.

They didn't see darkness neither light, and as his eyes got used to the sight before him, his mind was screaming it was all a dream, it must be all a dream, for his eyes rested upon the visage of one Genma Saotome, his father and his master in the art, a man who gave him his greatest fear and his most important strength.

And these eyes didn't hold fear or sadness in their depths, they held determination.

And dare he say it they held admiration.

And as his eyes encompassed the surrounding landscape they saw a green lush forest, a forest that was the common scenario where all his nightmares started, always in this forest, always in this same clearing, always by the same pit besides him . . . but never before had he seen Genma's eyes the way they were shown to him this time.

And as he saw his father, the man he used to respect the most in all the world, shove him into the pit and close the lid over it casting him in almost total darkness he saw what he had ignored in all these nightmares, all these years.

For as Genma berated him for being scared of cats and cursed the heavens for giving him a weak son who couldn't even master a simple technique, he saw his tears fall and his eyes close, and he saw in that moment a truth he denied for more than ten years, a truth that always was at the forefront of his mind, and as such, a truth he didn't accept, a reality he couldn't accept.

A truth that told him Genma had cried when he pushed Ranma inside the pit, and Ranma had seen love and regret on his father's eyes.

And as the lid closed, and the cats started mauling his body in the never-ending pain so common of these nightmares, Ranma cried.

Not of pain for the claws ripping his skin to shreds.

Not out of fear for the mewling coming from those damned cats.

He cried for the lost chance of forgiving his father, of loving him.

And as his tears fell, he saw the world fracture around him and the darkness melt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happosai was apprehensive as he saw Ranma's body trash around, and his breath come in ragged gasps.

And as he tended to his fatal wound and tried to reduce the fever, he got an insight of what Ranma was facing now, he received enlightenment on the best way to help Ranma overcome this last challenge.

And as he applied another compress on his pupil's forehead and tried to restrain his body from worsening the wound, he understood the demons Ranma should be facing in his mind.

And even as he injected some of his ki into Ranma's body he couldn't help but mutter a silent prayer, a promise to Ranma that everything would be okay, a calm "Fight on Ranma, fight on, for you must not lose, not this battle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His eyes opened again, to behold the sight of a blue sky and the smell of fresh rain on the air.

And while his mind cried fanatically that this was another dream he delighted in the sight of a serene sky.

And as his eyes turned to the earth he saw a gate he knew well, a gate he had crossed on countless times.

The entrance to the Tendo dojo.

And as his father crossed it, and as he was deposited on his own feet and embraced by a loudly crying Soun Tendo, he felt the fear of reliving these events.

The dread of seeing the same rejection on Kasumi and Nabiki's eyes, and the same betrayal on Akane's eyes.

And as the events went on unchanged, and as he beat Akane on the dojo, and went to the furo to bath, his mind cried for him to wake up.

But his heart told him to stay, and to listen, and to learn.

And as before he saw Akane enter the bathroom without knocking, and as he recalled what happened next he saw a second truth behind Akane's brown eyes, the truth that made him kill Saffron to save her, and the truth that made him challenge every opponent that came for her.

For he saw the same betrayal he had seen before, he saw her turn and run away, but he also saw pain, the pain of being lied to, and in that instant Ranma realized Akane had been hurt as much as him when the truth about his curse came about.

And as he realized her hurtful expression, and recalled her cry of 'pervert' that resounded throughout the house, and as he felt the impact of a heavy table on his head, he knew Akane had waited for him to ask forgiveness.

She had waited for him to ask for love.

And he, as proud and stupid as he was, had not done a single thing.

Also in doing so he had let love to die, and forgiveness to be forgotten.

And so, as his tears fell once again, he saw the dojo shatter around him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come on Akane, you should rest" said Kasumi as she dragged her youngest sister back to her room. And as she laid her on the bed and wrapped her in warm blankets she couldn't help but cry, cry for her family that was breaking apart faster than anything she could do to prevent it, and cry for Ranma that died when those who knew him let him down.

And as she closed Akane's door and walked quietly back to her own bedroom she remembered the mornings of seeing Ranma slip into his room by a window, of foolishly thinking he was up until late because of training.

And as she remembered Ranma's eyes those last days, of his look seeing at nothing and at everything at the same time, eyes that searched for an answer but found more questions instead, she remembered the quiet thumping sounds as he destroyed practice dummy after practice dummy while locking himself inside the dojo.

And while she disrobed in preparation to go to sleep she remembered an instant when she had seen this coming, a moment in time when she knew Ranma would do anything to get out of the situation he was put in, a morning when he asked her a simple question which she blew out as curiosity.

"Kasumi, tell me, how do you do it?" and as she turned around and asked with a smile "do what, Ranma-Kun?" she saw his eyes avoid hers as if trying to hide a reality he didn't want anyone to know about him and said in a quiet voice which made her imagine she had never heard it in the first place "Nothing, forget I asked."

If only she had answered that question.

But Tendo Kasumi was never a woman of ifs.

So she got into her bed and slept.

Not peacefully, but hoping that maybe the next day she could help her family overcome this great sadness, and maybe then could she find peace.

A peace she had sought after for so many years.

Peace denied to her when her mother passed away and she took care of the house.

Tranquility she craved for.

A harmony her home lost when a pigtailed boy stepped on the porch and said in a bashful voice "I'm Ranma Saotome, sorry about this."

The words that changed their lives forever.

Words that brought changes to their everyday lives, changes that at that particular moment were making her tears fall and her body shudder in fear of an unknown force that seemed to have enfolded the dojo in a dark mantle.

Thus as Kasumi slept, the world moved on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hot tears still fell from Ranma's eyes as they opened again, eyes that saw gray concrete walls and as his head moved to take in the wholeness of his surroundings trying in a way to anticipate what would come now, to get ready for the nightmare he'd be facing this time his mind remembered, a day like every other that had happened before it, a day that changed his life forever.

He saw a classroom full of chatting students, whose visages were full of life and happiness, of young boys and girls that never dreamed it was possible to die without dying at all, features that spoke not of fear either of loss, but faces that held the hope for a bright future, a future Ranma knew was denied to him since the day his father decided they were to leave home.

And as his thoughts turned dark towards the injustice of it all he heard what his mind was trying to make him experience again, a quiet sound he remembered well, the muffled scream of someone whose life is nothing more than a façade, someone who's thoughts speak of despair, of loss, of loneliness.

And just as before he ran, for the voice reverberated in his bones as his ears caught every sob, and the air felt thick with depression on a level greater to what Ryoga could generate even in one of his worst days.

But even as his legs pumped faster and faster to reach the source of that sound, and even as his nostrils flared with the stench of cheap alcohol, a tang he could recognize everywhere, his mind brought to the forefront a figure he tried desperately to forget, the shape of a broken girl who seemed ready to face death, and embrace it.

And as he turned the building's corner his eyes rested upon the faint outline of one Hinako Nanomiya with a bottle of cheap sake in her hand, and the moan of "why?" on her lips. And as he approached her without making a noise with his eyes moist as his mind relived what he learnt this particular day he saw her face turn around and her eyes stare right into his, and as he sat on the floor next to her and took the bottle to break it against the floor he heard himself ask the question that changed his life forever "Why are you crying Miss Hinako?" and as her tears fell again he heard what marked his life from that day on "Because I can't go on".

The conversation then was as if tuned out, as much as he tried to remember the words that were spoken that day, they were unclear, as if his ears were filled with cotton, although he clearly felt his mouth move, and when his mind cleared enough to hear coherently he heard his own words spoken in a voice not of his own, but clearly remembered by his mind "I don't understand why you'd be crying for that old troll Happosai, after all if he could avoid being sucked dry of his aura he would fondle you like he does to every other girl" and he saw her lips move and heard an answer he never expected to hear "Because I love him Ranma, I love him like my father, and to love is to forgive".

And as his soul cried, the world around him evaporated like steam on the wind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A dark restaurant, an empty café, usually full of chatter and life seemed lonely that night, as if silently sharing the pain of it's inhabitants, as if by being silent and dark could in someway help those that live inside it, and those that had lost someone very dear to them.

A broom laid in one corner, untouched since the afternoon when the last cleaning of this place happened, steam raised from a pot set on a table, two cups full of tea besides it as Cologne had brewed a special mixture to help calm nerves, three thousand years of amazon history dedicated on a single pot of tea, a long and proud history of valiant warriors and sage elders that couldn't help a lost member of their tribe this time. And at the table, lost in their own memories and facing their own guilt sat two women, one in her teens, the other beyond what would be considered normal even for some trees, and in a corner, at another table sat a man, a young man blind to the world around him that nevertheless saw the truth that night, and the only sound penetrating the atmosphere of solitude in the restaurant was that of tears falling on the soft cloth that covered the table, and the quiet sighs of an old woman trying to help those that she loved the most.

How many tears should fall before a soul finds peace? That was a question Cologne couldn't, for the life of her, answer. And in seeing her great-.granddaughter weeping for the loss of her husband, and as her tired eyes rested upon the form of Mousse shivering from the cold in a corner while his eyes avoid those around him, she remembered the gray blue eyes of a young man that used to come to her for help when he needed it the most, never asking for it as his pride was too big to acknowledge the need of help, but always searching for a way to overcome a last challenge, the means to defeat a last challenger.

And as her mind returned to previous days, when Ranma would come to the restaurant seeming lost and alone, as if he had lost all he cared for in the world, she regretted her lack of observation and damned his stupid pride for not allowing him to ask for help when an opponent was about to crush him, when a battle was raging on inside of him, tearing him apart, and turning his heart to a blackened piece of coal that she could not repair.

And as her tears fell on the table besides her tea and damped it even as her great grand daughter's did, her mind found the answer to that question, for no matter how many tears fell, a soul would find peace only after the pain can be accepted as a part of living, as she had done when her daughter died, as shampoo had done when her mother left, so they would accept the pain, and live on.

But this night, tears must fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trembling eyes opened once again, to behold a world full of light and sound, and to see his legs moving even when he tried to stop them. And as his vision encompassed the city surrounding him his soul felt dead, for he remembered this day, for it happened yesterday, or was it a year ago? A lifetime ago? He could not be sure, but he was sure this was the day that the status quo at Nerima was brought down, the day that the fiancées fights ended, for no one can win a dead man's heart.

And as his stomach grumbled, expressing  his lack of food as he clearly remembered, his legs carried him to the one place where he was sure food was always a constant, were he could find a friend to talk to, a friend that asked for nothing but gave everything, and as his eyes caught sight of the sign above the building, of a sign reading the familiar letters of "Ucchan's Okonomiyaki" he felt rage surging inside him.

Rage for the betrayal that came from this place on this day, and rage for the inability to change the past.

But his legs obeyed not his commands, and his mouth listened not to his mind, as if this was all a dream, memories forced to surface as if trying to break him, and broken he was. Broken by the pain of various moments when he regretted his actions, and broken by the truths he had seen.

But this moment would not break him, for it had already done so before.

So as he took a seat at the counter, and watched Ucchan prepare and okonomiyaki on the grill, he kept silence, trying to find the motivation for that last betrayal, and the reason for his last friend to destroy him.

And he saw a okonomiyaki placed in front of him, saw the face of Ukyo without the smile that always accompanied it when he stopped by to eat and chat, but a face grim with determination, with the security of a last effort, a last chance for Ranma to grow up and choose her as her rightful fiancée, the hope of Ranma finally acknowledging the sufferings she had endured for him.

And an empty envelope lay beside the grill, and a piece of paper lay on the floor untouched, something he hadn't noticed before.

And as his hands brought the food to his mouth, and his mouth tasted the distinct savor of his friend's art, he concentrated on her eyes, and her words, looking for the piece that was missing to this puzzle, and trying with all his might to endure a second performance of that day.

And it all started with a simple phrase, a careless remark made by him "You know Ucchan, if that tomboy could cook half as good as you maybe I would already had married her" a phrase meant as a flattering remark to her cooking abilities, that instead of the usual smile he got whenever he complimented her got in answer a scowl, and a low growl he had failed to notice before "If she could cook half as good as me Ranchan? Does that mean that you haven't married her yet because she can't cook?" and the hit of a spatula on the counter, right in front of him accentuated her words like nothing else before it "No Ucchan you've got it all wrong! I didn't mean it like that I . . ." explanations that nobody heard from him, why had he thought that Ukyo would be different then?  "Tell me Ranchan damn it!" and tears, his main weakness when dealing with girls "Tell me, is that all I am to you? Free food whenever you're hungry and not in the mood to taste Akane's cooking?" 

Damn that had to hurt, and he knew it, he had hurt her when she least expected it but he had to concentrate on the now, on the exact words that were spoken that day, to identify the reason for the behavior that haunted him in his dreams the last night he spent at the Tendo dojo.

"No Ucchan you're not! You're not just free food! You're my friend!" a slap, a strike that caught him unaware despite all his training in avoiding hits, a slap that brought anger in him just as he remembered and the words "A friend?! So I'm just a friend Ranchan?! You jackass here I am thinking that I'm your fiancée and all I am to you is a friend?!" yes, the anger, he remembered it well, the anger of being constantly reminded of his father's mistakes, "I never asked for you to be a fiancée Ukyo!" the hurt in her eyes, the same hurt that he saw for hours afterward, the hurt of losing a dream "It was arranged by my baka oyaji! Do you think I asked for all this shit?! I never asked you to marry me so why do you insist on marrying me?!"

Now he noticed the restaurant was empty, no wonders there, the coward customers had always run whenever he and Ukyo fought, not that he blamed them for it, he would have done the same thing if he could "Then why do you keep leading me on Ranma?! Why don't you just break this damn engagement and end all this crap?!" the tears were falling faster now, a veritable fountain of sorrow and pain he had ignored all the time "And just how am I supposed to do it Kuonji?! Just up and leave all behind?! I value my honor unlike everyone else around here! And I won't lose it just because you're tired of something!" a second slap coming, he saw it this time and his hand shot up to stop hers, how typical, if you can't talk with Ranma, then strike him "Honor Saotome?! You don't have honor! You bastard! You left me behind the road that time and now you talk to me about honor!?"

More words, words that he could not, would not remember, words that made him rage and speak, and shout. Words that brought his world down to pieces.

And hits, and yells, and truths that came to the front of repressed thoughts.

A fight bigger that any other he had had before with any of his fiancées.

A phrase that in his own rage induced mind he had ignored.

An expression that gave him the queue to answer this enigma, just as he was leaving the restaurant in a rage, to go to the dojo and spend hours in practice to try and calm his frayed nerves "I'm tired of this nonsense Ranma! One way or another this will be solved you hear me! One way or other you'll be begging me to take you back Saotome!"

"I don't beg nothing Ukyo. . ."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bottle of good sake, two cups, a couple of old stories, and two friends drinking under the light of the moon.

A constant that Soun had seen so many times along his friend Genma, a custom that helped them ease their problems and face life.

A way of drowning sorrows that had never failed.

That is, until this night.

And as they both sat with pain in their eyes Soun felt that his friend was finally lost, as lost as he himself had been when his wife passed away.

And as he tried to comfort Genma with a calm "Do you remember the nights we spent looking at the stars Saotome-kun? How we dreamed of having a family and being free of the master? How after we married our wives we still used to go camping and sat all night looking at the stars? Do you remember it?" and a gulp of sake, as always , as in the good old times.

But tonight this recipe failed, for Genma still sat there, saying nothing, not looking the stars with dreams of uniting the schools, of being free, of having no worries for the future.

For he just sat there, with his cup untouched, sober as Soun had never seen him, until at last, in a quiet voice Genma answered, with a voice unlike the powerful martial artist he so well remembered, but a voice very much like that of an old man that had seen his dreams melt away under the same stars that they were now contemplating "No Tendo-kun, I don't remember it. But I remember nights on the road with my boy, looking at these same stars, and trying to call up names for the constellations, I remember nights damning myself for taking him away from his mother."

And at last a drink from a previously ignored cup of sake "I remember the smile on the boy's face when he first saw the stars from the peak of a mountain, and his cries when he laid down to sleep, I remember his first kick and his first fall Tendo-kun. I remember my boy singing when I carried him on my shoulders when he was too tired to walk, and his sighs as he walked along me, I remember his questions when I tried to teach him to read, and his laughs when I taught him the art, forgive me Tendo-kun, but I don't remember anything else, just my boy. . . my son."

And once again tears. . . and silence.

And in the dark, under the light of the moon two men sat drinking good sake and seeing the stars.

And in the dark, in a night when both lost what was keeping them alive, two friends rediscovered the meaning of friendship.

And taking his warm cup in his hand Soun smiled and said in a far-away voice "You're right Saotome-kun, I remember when my little Akane. . ."

Trying to take strength from that friendship to face the future, and maybe to live once again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wooden walls, a light paper curtain covering the way to the garden, quiet laughs and soft whispers, the chat between two sisters about everyday events, and the light of a bulb above his head.

Such is the image that greeted Ranma's eyes when they once again opened to contemplate another dream, a memory his mind seemed hell bent on recalling.

And his eyes roamed around the dojo while his soul wanted desperately an escape, a way to out run this nightmares and face life, for life could be a dark room besides an old pervert, but it was very much more desirable than living in dreams, and crying tears for events that had changed his life.

So when the doors opened, and his mother's voice sounded in his ears "Ranma, we need to talk" he was ready to face this last ordeal, to overcome this testing and face life, remembering times when he used to love his dreams, where his visions of a better future held promises he knew would not be fulfilled now.

So he sat among the silence, watching his mother's eyes for every little clue that may help him understand this last test, this task for his soul to overcome the sadness that encompassed it in a cold blanket.

And his ears were listening, even as his eyes saw images from the future, and his mind summoned images from what he now knew was the past.

And when her mother spoke, and the girl, Ukyo, who was sitting besides her stared at him with scorn in her eyes he saw his world, a imaginary world he dared not ditch, fade away, and the hidden truths come to the forefront.

And in seeing those truths Ranma found the reason why these nightmares were presenting it selves to him, why he had to relive every moment in his young life, to gain an understanding of the past, and in doing so, to find a way to face the future.

So the words were spoken "Son, Ukyo-chan tells me you decided to break the engagements, is it true?" and he saw his vision vacillate, as if his head was nodding and heard the same conversation he had heard earlier in the night "You're aware that doing so would destroy the honor of our clan, aren't you?" a nod, again, it seemed as if he had finally lost the ability to speak "And if you lost your honor you can't be a man among men, right?"

Doubts that surfaced, and fears that he dared not face head on, the fear of being rejected by the person he cared most for in his life, and the doubt that maybe, he was already dead.

So as the conversation went on he just remembered fragments of it, as if his mind was unable to take the information and keep it. . . or maybe it was his soul that could not longer face the pain.

"The Saotome clan . . ."  "Honor demands that you. . ."  "You took her dowry without thinking about the consequences . . ." ". . . the shame of living like a boy for most of her life?" ". . . better than your father" 

Fragments his mind conjured as if to torment him, and finally the challenge, the last words that chose his future for him, "Choose carefully Ranma, as Genma already accepted the dowry from the Kuonji family you have to accept the engagement as well, therefore I've decided to finish the Tendo engagement, although it pains me so much to do so, and I name Ukyo the rightful fiancée, now Ranma you must marry her, you understand? Reclaim your honor Ranma, marry her or commit seppuku, I won't have you destroying my clan's honor for your carelessness."

The words spoken by Ukyo, and the words spoken by his mother, a double betrayal his heart was no more capable of handling, "I told you Ranma, I told you you'd be begging me to take you back. Now choose carefully Ranma, is my hand and life or the sword and death."

And his own words, his own conviction, instilled on his self by his father but adopted by his soul as his own truth, as his own personality, a phrase told to him by his father on a cold night, and after so many days without food, the answer to a question he asked in a moment of desperation, "Papa, why don't we ask that nice lady at the restaurant for some food?" and the memory of his father's face hardening, and of a voice, the same voice that spoke to him about honor, and life, and love. . .  and martial arts "Because that would be begging Ranma and a Saotome doesn't lose  and to beg for something is to accept you had lost."

And so, his own words "I don't beg for nothing Ukyo" came back to him with the choice between begging for life by accepting a future he didn't want, a future he still believed he could change, or the choice of trying to fight once again, to try and face destiny with fire in his eyes and fists blazing. . . 

Really, not a choice at all. . .

And so he took the sword over Ukyo's hand, death over life, boldness over smartness. . .

Freedom over bindings.

And he felt his spirit soar the skies at the same time the coldness from the steel entered his chest and his mouth turn into a smile as his blood flowed fiercely down his body.

Freedom at last.

Freedom that destroyed the world around him in a flash of light and made him gasp for air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  Flash  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For days had the sky rained and the earth trembled under the constant onslaught of thunder and water, and for years would the inhabitants of Nerima shake from fear, and death.

But as every other storm this one came to a halt in a moment, making some believe it was all a dream, and it could be if not for the uprooted trees that still lined the streets and the smashed windows that some stray pebbles had destroyed in the winds rage.

Just as Furinkan high laid with the damage made by Ranma's battles shadowed by the damage this storm had made, and the canals overflowing with waters, as if carrying the tears of an entire city the sun finally peeked amidst the clouds, giving an ethereal feeling to a desert city.

Something akin to a ghost town whose residents had fled from fear or loneliness.

And behind the city, on a low hill residing inside a small forest, the very same woodland where Ryoga had mastered the Bakusai Tenketsu and Ranma had dominated the raging energies necessary to create a Hiryu Shoten Ha stood two lone figures, masked by the rays of the sun, making them appear as nothing more than a figment of your imagination, a visage your mind would doubt was there even as your eyes focused upon them.

And the quietness surrounding the forest was broken by the first figure, that of a little man no taller than three or four feet, with a gnarled staff in one hand and a big pack on his back "Ready to go Ranma? Ready to leave all this behind? We can always go back, you know."

More silence, as if the entire forest expected the answer that was to come from the man's lips, a man dressed in black silk pants and a tattered red chinese shirt, a man whose hair no longer rested on a pigtail but was free and wild as his owner himself.

And a silence broke by three words "Yes, Let's go."

So as the figures turned around and left Nerima, with it's fearful residents behind, with the Tendo dojo destroyed by fire, with the Nekohanten closed up and the Ucchan's seeming like an abandoned place, a story began to be written.

So, this is not the end.

Neither is it the beginning.

This is just a fragment more, an episode if you'd like.

Another day in another life.

Another dream in another night.

A hero on a hard journey.

A god working to change the world.

Or a demon on vacation.

A.N.  Well it's done! Chapter four finished! Whoa it took me a really long time to write this little thing. . . blame school and real life for that. I'll try to get the next chapter up faster, really I will! Well there's not much more I can say about this except that I'm accepting unsigned reviews now! Go ahead, flame me! I love flames! Flame, Flame, Flame, Flame, FLAME!!!! *insert evil maniacal laugh here*

That took care of there's just one more thing to say. . .

Bans . . . off!


	6. Chapter Five: Breaking Boundaries

To dream, perhaps to live.

A motto Ranma didn't know the meaning of, a sensation Ranma never got when his life went by in Nerima.

An adage Ranma decided to practice on a cold night, on a drizzling dark.

To dream of a new life, to visualize a future full of probabilities, of chances and misses, of winnings and loses.

The opportunity of breaking the chains that bound him to this earth, to this living of a day each time, of a hour after another without hope, without a heart that felt alive, and so, Ranma decided to dream, and by any chance, to live.

And so when Ranma woke up the next day, after hours of traveling with Happosai across dirty roads and forgotten freeways, he decided to affront destiny by proving he could live, to insult fate by showing he could enjoy life, live a day unlike the previous one, to breath a second instead of a hour.

And so, Ranma lived, and dreamed.

And realized the meaning behind a proverb he had read somewhere.

To dream, perhaps to live.

To keep on living, maybe to persist in dreaming.

And so he chose to live.

And in doing so maybe, someday, he'd be able to dream again.

To recover lost hopes and dashed wishes.

To reclaim a lost life and a missed future.

To find joy.

****************************************

I've seen so much

A Ranma ½ Fan fiction

****************************************

----------------------------------------            Chapter Five     -----------------------------------------------

**********     Breaking boundaries     **********

Days of walking, of running brought Ranma and Happosai to the coast around Honshu island, the best way to take a ship and sail to China, the biggest port where a boat wouldn't require papers, and where two forlorn travelers could find shelter and food.

And some panties for energy recharging.

So the trekkers sought an inn, a hotel, someplace where their tired bones could find some respite, where their famished appetites could be satiated.

And after finding someplace, a damp building where not even cockroaches would rest even in the direst of situations, where the rain passed through the various holes on the ceiling and where a feeble fire was all the protection offered against the chilly winds of the seashore nights, they rested.

And while resting they talked about the past and planned for the future.

Planning to go to China and find a cure for a curse one of them venerated, the other loathed.

For although Jusenkyo had been flooded, and the springs had disappeared on a day where a god fell, the youngest of them still had a little hope.

Hope that a cure would still be found if they were to search for it with all their strength.

Trust in the goodness of a divine being that would bestow a little blessing upon him after years of torture.

And the older one, although sarcastic and distant, was happier now that his pupil seemed to recuperate the ability to live.

The means of dreaming.

And so, over a meager meal of old fish barely cooked and greasy bread baked a lifetime ago, the travelers chatted about the future and designed for the past.

And while lying down to sleep on cots no better than a mere cloth laid on the cold floor, the travelers slept.

And while Ranma found visions of freedom over his curse on his dreams, Happosai found happiness on the knowledge that Ranma was alive.

More alive than he had ever seen him.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Three days had passed since the gale ended.

Leaving visions of doom along it's path, taking with it's furious winds and heavy rains the final righteousness that rested in the hearts of those that populated Nerima.

And carrying with said waters the ashes of an ancient and proud dojo.

Leaving no corpse for the mourners to bury, no body for the fiancées to cry upon.

And in the knowledge that Ranma never lost, that Ranma always fought until the end and ahead of it when the end seemed tragic, Nabiki dedicated her efforts at finding him.

She turned her resources at searching for a dream of blue gray eyes and alluring smiles, making her contacts open their eyes and ears, and calling every person that once was indebted to her.

For if there was no corpse then Ranma couldn't be dead.

And if Ranma wasn't dead, then she would find him.

As she found the secret truth about the Kuno's mother, and as she found the secrets held behind the dazzling features of a handsome face.

And so her efforts were dedicated to finding a single man in a wide city.

A needle in a barn.

And she shed tears with every new report of not a hair being seen.

And her heart wept with every news of a missing man that wasn't seen anywhere.

And while the people thought her efforts hopeless, and her actions desperate, she kept on searching, hoping that Ranma may still be found, and that her heart could still be brought to life once again.

But Ranma. . .  wasn't found anywhere.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

The spirit whished and the heart hoped, but the body was tired. A body that had stood unmovable even when fierce storms buffeted a little fishing boat that had agreed to take the travelers into the mainland, now felt old and exhausted beyond definition.

A body that had fought a whole village of chinese amazons without blanching for the strikes, now felt every little contact made by particles of dust that floated in the wind.

A man that had seen Japan grow from a rural country into a great metropolis now felt every year of loneliness and pain, pains long forgotten and sorrows that his soul had wiped from memory in search of prolonging his existence.

And so, when Ranma finally reached the peak overlooking Jusenkyo, he noticed that Happosai seemed ready to drop dead.

And his heart saddened at the notion that maybe the old master would be unable to fulfill this last trip.

This last voyage in search of knowledge and freedom.

And as he made camp and prepared some soup from roots he picked and a couple bunnies he caught, he heard Happosai's tears fall.

And his own were not long behind.

Tears for a master that never got the chance to teach him, and tears for a friend that he never got to know.

And in a cold night, atop a mountain overlooking Jusenkyo and the amazon village, with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, Happosai died.

And while Ranma dug a hole in the ground to bury his master and planted a tree on the grave to allow every traveler that crossed this same mountain the opportunity of knowing a grand master had fallen here, and while he inscribed a little phrase on the bark and cried for an old man's loss, Ranma remembered.

Remembered the nights of seeing Happosai pump ki into his body to revive him, of his tiny hands applying a crude salve of herbs that smelled like dead fish warmed over on his wound to help it close.

Bore in his mind images of a rugged face telling him stories of brave warriors and maidens that fought for a chance to live, and thought about smiles shared with an ancient human whom taught him of honor beyond honor, of love above love.

He cried for lessons taught to him on cold nights while the rains assaulted a tiny house on the borders of Nerima, of teachings of never giving up, of fighting his past and facing the future with an insolence he had never thought of.

His heart ached for the memories of meditation on hard floors to help him overcome a great weakness caused by his self inflicted wound, and for the remembrance of tired eyes looking at him with approval and esteem when he could finally stand after two days of not being able to even move a finger.

And as his hands closed around the final scrolls given to him by his master, for although Happosai had taught him but a short time, he had showed him more about life and death than every other master he had had before.

And although Happosai had always joked after a serious chat, or a dark memory shared with him, he had also given him lessons on happiness and sorrow greater than what his own life had proved him.

And as he turned around  and began climbing down to reach Jusenkyo and find his cure, he remembered the grand master's last words told to him, only him.

"Be brave Ranma, if a weak man such as me could live for so many years, then how many will a man like you live?"

And as his feet moved to carry his tired body into the mist surrounding the springs his mind recalled a last expression that came from his master's lips.

"I'm proud of you Ranma m'boy, never doubt that."

And as his tears fell anew the winds embraced a tree planted on a new grave, made for an old warrior.

And the breath of nature caressed a saying engraved on the bark of a young tree.

"Here rests Happosai, Musabetsu Kakuto Ryu's Grandmaster, a man among men, a master above masters. My friend, my guide. . . my father."

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Her grades were falling and her face hadn't smile in over a week now, but she didn't care.

Because she had seen her betrothed fall on a rainy night, a night that even after so many days her classmates spoke about.

And she ignored the questions asked by uncaring lips, posed by cold eyes "Hey Akane! Where's Ranma?"

And so, she decided to live, and remembered a promise made to a fallen warrior, the promise to live on, to fight on until her body couldn't fight anymore, and then fight more for a chance to find happiness.

A vow to face life to the eyes, with fire burning inside her own spirit, with the spark of life that so well defined a martial artist.

And although she had thought differently during so much time, and had felt inadequate when compared with Ranma or any of her rivals, she still remembered her conviction of being a martial artist.

Of training her body beyond what her peers would consider normal.

Of facing opponents that could destroy mountaintops in a fit of rage.

And so, she trained all day, to enable her own soul and reach levels of the art that would dumbfound the entire world.

To become a master of the Tendo style, even if it took her tears of salt and blood.

And her nights were spent solely on crying for a lost love, on mourning for a fallen friend.

For a dead husband that never was.

And as her hands took notes, and her ears ignored all the whispers around her, her spirit found a reason to keep on living.

Bit by bit perhaps, but a reason that would help her overcome whatever life threw at her.

And in living she dreamed.

And in dreaming she found a future she could mold to suit her own necessities.

Her own desires of love and companionship.

Her own need of Ranma. . .

Always Ranma. . .

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Jusenkyo had been a failure, a fool's quest, a red herring.

For although the springs had been brought back to life by the cycle of nature, the cure was not found.

For he had learnt from the guide that the spring of drowned man would not cure his curse.

That the curses indeed did mix.

And so he had left Jusenkyo, with it's green valley and gray mountains behind.

And traveled west.

West to countries he had never seen before, but had read about in books, and had once dreamed of knowing.

Countries that Nabiki spoke highly of, and that Akane always wanted to live.

Places that he once swore, in the intimacy of his own bedroom, that he would take her when he could.

And he would visit those locations and know all that was to be known there, for even if she wasn't with him he could live on, and he could always hike and find the strength to keep on walking.

He would remember the teachings of an old man, and as he read the old scrolls left to him by Happosai he didn't find techniques, or movements supposed to make him stronger.

He found but a story, as if it was but a book never printed.

The story of Happosai's life.

A story covering more than three hundred years of wandering the earth, of looking for the truth behind man's power.

And whenever he took a rest by an unused road, or made camp in the valley of an old forest, he read and learnt.

Learnt the meaning of forgiveness and of hatred.

Learnt the abilities necessary to live when all is lost, and to win when all hope is nothing but a mirage.

Learnt of masters buried by earth and time, of teachings wiped by tears and pain.

Learnt the need to confront the past and to face the future.

For in those scrolls were Happosai's greater skill, his critical power.

The means to live.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

The clinic hadn't changed much, it still had those same grayish walls and white curtains.

The same couch on the waiting room, and the same cot where patients were treated and injuries healed.

But the doctor had changed.

Where once stood a great medic, a healer the likes of the world had seen but few, now stood an empty carcass.

The shell of a man that had failed to save a life, his only failure to date, and his greatest sorrow.

The life of a hero, a hero that had swallowed his own pride and asked for help.

Help written in little messages they exchanged on nights under a bridge.

And he remembered the last note, a note he was too late to read, and too early to foresee.

"Please, help me."

and so, Tofu Ono cried on a stormy night, and yelled to the four winds his sorrow when the only hero he had known had fallen.

And his legs still shook whenever he walked past the Tendo dojo, and his eyes no longer fogged up when he saw Kasumi.

For Ranma had once told him a lesson, a teaching he never thought of, a way to speak to her and, maybe, finds happiness along a quiet girl.

"Hey doc, why don't you simply write to her as we do? It's so silly the way you can't even speak to Kasumi, so why don't write her? You told me that since we couldn't speak we should write."

And it all started with small notes left inside his books.

Books she burrowed from him.

In a book about anatomy 'If I could only talk to you.'

In a book about shiatsu 'Why are your smiles killing me?'

In a book about psychology 'I'd give my soul to be able to spend my life with you.'

In a book about traditional medicine 'If I cannot marry you on this life, then I am no man.'

In a book about preventive medicine 'Ai shiteru Tendo Kasumi.'

And finally, in the last book she burrowed, on a novel he had bought expressly for her 'Please, help me. Please, give me life.'

And a relationship was born, and romance blossomed where only nervousness was before.

But although he greatly enjoyed Kasumi's companionship, and although he was grateful for every little moment spent together, his souls still cried for a pigtailed boy that asked for his help.

'Please, help me.'

But never again would he fail to those he cared about.

As sure as his name was Tofu Ono, he would never again be unsuccessful.

For if Ranma had taught him something, it was to never quit.

To fight on until the last breath.

To embrace freedom and accept bindings.

To win. . .

And a cry for help, or a little note asking for the same left under an old bridge on cold nights became his reason to keep on living.

His motivation to ask for Kasumi's hand in marriage and move on with life.

And he still saw his wedding ring, with an inscription no one but his wife knew the meaning of, three little words that were their greatest treasure and their biggest regret.

The words that made Kasumi love him and the very same words that awoke him from a long slumber.

'Please, help me.'

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The vast plains of India, the breathtaking red sea, the burning deserts of Africa.

Ranma had seen it all, so many views his mind hadn't thought possible, so many cultures his conscious could barely hold them all in memory.

And after traveling across secluded plateaus and isolated villages, he decided it was time to return to men.

It was time to confront civilization and learn, it was the time to face his fears and overcome them.

For the scrolls told to him about years spent far-off from all humanity, and of years spent in great cities.

And although he had spent but months looking for inner peace, and weeks trying to find the truth about who he was, he had decided to go back, to know all that could be known about man and in doing so, to avoid becoming another pervert.

To try and evade the possibility of not belonging to any place, although he was conscious he would always be considered a stranger no matter where he went to.

And so, after days of hiking his lost eyes rested upon a city beyond what he had seen before, he saw wonders made by man and unknown to him until that precise moment, the sight of buildings rising taller than those few he had seen at Japan, and of roads crisscrossing a metropolis full of life.

And as he searched for a place to rest at, and for a job that would, hopefully, bring him enough money to buy a decent meal, he missed the sight of a yellow spotted bandana clad boy wearing green pants whose color had been washed away by the weather and a brown shirt that had lost it brightness a lifetime ago.

And as he entered a building with the hope of having enough money left to pay at least a month of rent he didn't saw said boy stare at him as if seeing a ghost.

And as he followed the land owner to a place where he could sleep peacefully he missed the incredulous "Ranma?" that came out of that boy's lips.

For Ryoga's direction sense had kicked again and, as if cursed by fate, he had seen his greatest rival and supposedly dead friend walk into a building somewhere.

And as he tried to conciliate the sight his eyes presented to him with the knowledge he had acquired on a rainy night, in which he tried to shelter himself from the pouring water, that Ranma had fallen, his vision swam.

And the people scattered away from the boy that had just fainted on the street.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Pain, it was always pain.

Not a physical pain, that she could had easily handled, but emotional pain.

The kind of hurting that leaves scars invisible to all but oneself.

The kind of pain she never learnt to deal with.

And so, amidst flowers and greenery, Kodachi suffered her losses quietly, trying to find an escape out of this ache, the hurt of knowing she was now, more than ever before, alone in this world.

So she ignored her brother's ravings about 'the fair tigress Tendo Akane' and his mad cries for 'the loss of the pigtailed girls', damning that harlot for she was sure it was her who took Ranma away from her loving arms.

And she cursed Sazuke for bringing to her ears the news of Ranma's fall, of her love's death.

But as she had learnt to live with the pain of her mother's death and her father's loss, she would learn to live with this new pain, this pain of knowing her dreams were for naught, her beauty and grace not enough to give him a reason to keep on living.

And she would only become stronger from this new pain as she had done before.

Stronger and prettier.

For beauty was the only way to achieve true happiness.

As her roses did when they blossomed, she would also become a beauty to be afraid of.

And Nerima would once again fear the black rose of Saint Hebereke, and her opponents would once again shake from the mere mention of her illustrious name.

And so she tended her flowers and cared for her plants.

Ignoring the warm tears that ran down her cheeks whenever she thought of him, of Ranma.

And as if seeing his warm blue eyes looking at her, she found the strength to move on.

The strength to forgive those harridans that dared to try and steal her love's attentions from her.

And she found inside her own heart forgiveness for her brother's lunacy.

And felt a peace she had never felt before.

And the black rose was reborn from the ashes left behind by Kodachi's disappearance.

It was time that Nerima learned true fear.

For the black rose was back.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Travel worn eyes opened with the memory of a bad dream, a nightmare he dared not revive, much less remember.

For Ryoga doubted many things, except that he was still sane.

Or so he thought, for he could swear upon his honor that he had seen Ranma walking ahead of him.

A Ranma that was supposed dead, he had even gone to his funeral, to say goodbye to a friend who would help him fight goddesses of snow and spirits of ancient dragons, and of a rival who would chase him around the Tendo's place without giving him a respite, of a cad that had Akane bewitched with his charm and his blue gray eyes, of a man that had most of the girls in Nerima enamored of him and waiting for a chance to give him whatever he asked of them, the dishonorable cur.

A Ranma that had helped him find his way home when they were kids, a child that would fight him and then help him train with the faint excuse of "Hey, you're pretty good! Wanna train together?"

Of a younger Ranma that was his only friend in a school full of acquaintances. The only boy that was not afraid of his inhuman strength but admired him for it.

Of Ranma, that was his friend when no one else would, and tried to be his friend when no one else could.

And as his tears felt for those remembrances, for those memories of happier times when his only worry was not if he would have a ceiling over his head the next day, but were instead the thought that maybe the next day he would finally beat Ranma, he would finally be the best.

And as he turned around and asked the heavens for a chance of finding his friend, not to kill him, but to embrace him and welcome him back to the land of living, he was lost.

And as his eyes focused again, he was in someplace surrounded by asian people that spoke Japanese instead of that other language he heard where Ranma was residing at.

And as he turned his sight to the heavens and cried his negative for the fate that brought him apart from a chance at redemption, he heard a soft gasp behind him.

And as his head turned around, he saw the wall surrounding the Tendo's place, a place he had not seen for many months now.

And the sad eyes of a tired Akane that saw him as if resting her eyes upon a miracle.

And in that sudden moment, he felt small and alone.

And in a second, during a heartbeat, he understood why Ranma tried to keep Akane away from him.

Why Ranma killed Saffron and defied the Orochi when Akane was in danger.

And he didn't see the girl he had a light crush on, but the woman that stole his heart in that precise moment.

And Ryoga blessed his direction sense, for it had brought him here, and he had found love.

But he totally forgot about Ranma being alive, for it was only the dream of a friend when his eyes were contemplating a goddess face.

And so, the truth about Ranma being alive were lost to the residents of Nerima, for Ryoga fell in love once again.

A love he would not, could not get over of.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

No more tears fell from her face, no matter how hard she wished to cry, no tears fell.

And Nodoka cursed her fate for her own inability of crying for her lost son, of calling his name and expecting to her him tell her it was all a bad dream.

And while she swept her house, her lonesome house since Genma had never come back from wherever he had disappeared to, she tried again to cry, to shed the tears that her soul kept on saving inside.

And so, with dry eyes and a dead heart she swept her house, a lonesome house since Ranma had chosen life over death when she couldn't understand him, couldn't bring him the peace he so fiercely searched for during his whole life.

And as she pulled back a stray hair that fell down from her bun, she cursed the fates for her uptight upbringing, for the way her parents talked to her about honor being the most important thing in this world, about the cleanliness of a name that would otherwise destroy her house completely.

And as her hands moved in usual ways to bring the dust away from an otherwise clean house, she damned her husband for taking her son away all those years ago, and remembered the happy smile on a child's face as he was carried down the road on his father's shoulders.

And as she piled up the dust she thought about sunny days when she would lay wide awake on her bed and stare at the ceiling while imagining her son having fun learning an art meant for fighting, an art she had considered worthy of being the only thing her son could learn in his whole life.

And as her feet moved to carry the bag of garbage to the front door for the picking of tomorrow she remembered stories told to her by her friends, stories of how a son would never recognize a mother they had never seen in years, of how Ranma should be dead when five years passed without news of their whereabouts, tales of Genma's behavior, of Genma's ways to escape responsibility of his own acts.

And as she returned home she tried once again to cry, to cry for a son that although alive was dead inside, of a man that had conquered foes beyond her wildest dreams but had fallen by his own hands.

And she remembered the truth that Genma had told her on the day of their wedding, surrounded by their friends, the truth about her clan, and his own clan, the truth about a family full of samurai ancestry and noble ancestors.

No one beats a Saotome.

But she had never learnt that there was an exception to that rule.

For no one beats a Saotome, but another Saotome.

And as her legs carried her inside her own house, a lonesome house since she had tried to turn her son into the man she would be proud of, since she tried with all her might to make him honorable, without realizing it was impossible to reclaim their own honor when Genma's actions had swept them under the dirt.

And she laid down on her bed, in her house, her lonesome house since she had asked Ranma to kill himself.

And her good son had, as always, obeyed.

And still, the tears would not come out.

The damned tears would not come out.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Months of staying in a city, of learning the ways of civilization, of correcting his own father's shortcomings, and finally his wander lust had finally won over his desire to find peace.

And he took the road once again.

Looking for places of old magic and ancient tradition.

And so he crossed the frontiers of innumerable countries, from Rome to Madrid, from Madrid to Greece, from Greece to Normandy, From Normandy to England and finally from England to Scotland, and form there to Stonehenge.

And while staying at this place full of legends and tales of old folk, he learnt the truth about his wander lust.

The truth that it didn't exist, it had never existed.

For he was only looking for a place he could call home without remorse in his heart and peace in his soul.

For Nerima was his place, his home.

It was time to return.

To live once again.

It was time to start dreaming.

Time to win.

A.N.: Well, this is Chap. 5!!! *applause please* and it explains, if briefly, the time Ranma spent away from Nerima, looking for a way to overcome his past.

Yeah I know I killed Happosai, but let's face it, if I left Ranma travel with Happosai he would eventually have turned into a raving pervert, and we wouldn't want so, would we?

Now, about Ryoga, he obviously had a crush on Akane, since she was sweet to him whenever he was P-Chan, so I turned that light crush into a full blossomed love, you know the kind that makes you see stars and hear bells.

The bit about Tofu marrying Kasumi? I think they make a nice couple, they're both very kind to Ranma and obviously Tofu feels something for Kasumi, why did Ranma give advice to Tofu? He was in fact just repeating what Tofu told him, "If we can't talk, we can always write" (Actually that's from an old Mexican movie whose name I don't remember right now). Nodoka? Well I try to show the way the various characters react to Ranma's 'death' and the bit about her not being able to cry is from real life, when the dad of a friend girl (a girl that was my friend but not my girlfriend, anybody knows how to call this type of relationship??) died she wasn't able to cry, that is until she started talking to some friends and me about her dad, really sad, trust me.

Well, that said, there's just one more thing to say. . .

Bans . . . off!


	7. Chapter Six: The moon weaves the way

Sunlight streaming on an emerald field.

Soft grass carrying the weight of disinterested steps.

Small breathes taking in the air full of stillness on a valley like few seen before by aged eyes. 

The blue sky over a green meadow, with a slight breeze blowing across it, shaking the bushes and trees, and making dust rise as if flying to the heavens.

Drained eyes seeing the dirt dance on the wind.

The desire to fly away, to bring your own self to the expanse of blue above and forget all that's left on this earth.

To discard hurt and bliss, tears and laughs.

The unconcealed desire to fly, to fly away, and to flee tears and pain, the yearning to find happiness.

What would happen if you could fly away? Just leave everything behind and fly away on wings of light and sound?

Ranma didn't know the answer to these questions, for Ranma had never learnt to fly.

And he sure as heck would not run away.

At least that was what he said to himself everyday since he left Nerima along with Happosai, a man he loathed, and the only one to offer him unconditional acceptance.

And a fondle or two, for old times' sake.

But even if Happosai's quirks were fun in some way, Ranma knew his life still felt bare.

As bare as a hill whose forest had been cleaned away by the winds.

Nude as a newborn whose eyes open for the first time to behold a world offering him the greatest marvels, and the biggest sufferings.

Exposed as a truth when words are not enough to cover it, when silence is not near adequate to hold it back.

And so, with the happiness brought to him by Happosai's early mischief, and the fear of being chased by a whole town after their blood, Ranma decided it was time to stop fooling himself.

For he never was much of a liar, as he couldn't lie to himself.

And if he couldn't deceive himself he had to accept the truth.

The truth that, although his mind had found freedom, his heart desired more, and his soul craved for companionship and friendship. . . and love.

The realization that no matter how high he climbed a mountain, or how deep he descend an abyss, his eyes still hadn't regained that fire, that desire to live, that defiance to destiny he was so proud of, the same spark of life that he used to see on the mirror every morning, that glimmer of hope his eyes hadn't had in more than a year of wandering.

Even when his feet moved against gravity and his own body's tiredness, when climbing the peaks of China looking for a cure, a cure he had never found.

Yet as his hands bled when fighting a grand master after another, when trying to improve his own talent, to bring his skill beyond what most humans would reach in a lifetime.

For even as his eyes saw wonders around the world and his ears heard lessons further than anything he thought possible, his tears still fell freely in the nights.

And his promise was, even to this day, unfulfilled.

A promise to be a man among men, and to be the son that would make every mother proud.

The promise to be a Saotome, to take a breather instead of run away, to figure a way to fight his own past losses and win.

Winning.

His only real motivation had been winning.

And after a year of perfecting his body in the fine art of fighting, after what felt to him like a lifetime of turning his soul into a weapon capable of handling the harshest of clashes and survive, his mind finally thought he was ready.

It was time to face the past.

It was time to remember old vows.

It was time to return to Nerima and fight old pains.

It was past time to win. . .

******************************

I've seen so much

A Ranma ½ Fan fiction

******************************

----------------------------------------            Chapter Six A   -----------------------------------------------

**********     The moon weaves the way     **********

How much does a city depend upon one person?

A question some people would say does not matter, an enigma most would say was just that, a curious puzzle to try and solve in a moment of idleness.

So, Nerima never thought much about Ranma once the news of his death were widely known.

Some tears fell, and some hopes died, but nobody seemed to really care.

After all, Tokyo, with its more than three million inhabitants could spare a single person to the nine springs below, couldn't it?

Even if that one person had been the anchor to hold all the chaos, the magnet to bring it forefront, and the only one capable of handling most of it.

And as the amazons decided to live in Japan a little more, waiting for the chance to meet a second warrior who would, hopefully, be as good as Ranma had been and as the Tendos moved on with their lives and the Ucchan's was reopened after a long absence from the market of food, Nerima still felt the same oppression it had felt on a rainy night, during a storm that had destroyed a great part of the city, damages that were even to this day present.

And some people still remembered that smile, or those eyes, eyes that spoke of a lifetime of wandering, smiles that told stories of life and death, tales of gods and dragons, and of hope for a better future.

For what was the case of watering the sidewalk if you couldn't get the simple pleasure of watching a handsome young man turn into a pretty red haired girl?

And what fun would there be in punishing the students at school with haircuts and ridiculous laws if no one thought of challenging the order of things?

And so, some people remembered, and waited.

Waited for the warrior to return home, yes home, for even if the road was a place where most of his life was spent at, it was Nerima that welcomed him, and it was Nerima that expected with great anxiety his return.

To a land where no thugs could be seen at any time of day or night, for fear of a super powered martial artist, who shot balls of energy from his hands and could create tornados at will, and who didn't approve of the strong picking over the weak.

To a place where insane kendoists, with more money than they knew what to do with, spent their days in training to defeat a single opponent, instead of torturing a whole school knowing no one was capable of facing them down.

To a city where, from time to time, would pass a fanged boy with a yellow umbrella, who would shout to the heavens about vengeance and killing, scaring kids and adults alike, and making policemen shiver in fright when their first car was lifted with a hand and tossed aside as a piece of trash obstructing his way.

To a place where blind amazons ran around, hugging girls with light hair while asking them for shampoo and proclaiming their love for a hair care product.

And so, some people remembered the boy that had to deal with these events and kept them under a tight leash.

And the pretty girl that a lot of shopkeepers waited to give a free snack in exchange of a wink and a smile.

Oh, and the photos that had started to miss at school.

The boys certainly missed the photos.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Loneliness, the only consistent company in Nabiki's Tendo life, the absence of a person with whom she could share every day's happenings, the lack of a twin soul that would, hopefully, understand her fully, the want of a heart that could beat at the same time hers do.

But it was all a dream, and she knew it.

A dream that vanished on a rainy night, almost a year ago.

The night that Ranma fell.

So enduring life she moved on. Trying to live a life she didn't find comfortable, she hadn't found comfortable ever since her mother died. But it was the only life she remembered, the only she knew of.

No matter how much she wished for a change, for a dream to come along and whisk her away from this monotonous existence, from this tedious routine of doing the same things everyday.

This reality of trying to make enough money to keep her family, although her work had been diminished greatly since her father started teaching again, this truth of helping Akane overcome her sadness while trying to suppress her own, of aiding Kasumi when her tears fell unnoticed by everyone but her, of this life of missing Ranma.

Oh how she missed Ranma.

It was true, she couldn't fool herself anymore, and she missed Ranma.

Ranma, who used to destroy the house at least once a week, Ranma who could make her sister smile or fume almost at will, Ranma who spent time off his day to talk to Kasumi and make her a tiny bit happier.

Ranma who made her feel alive after so many years of being dead.

Even now, sometimes, on clear days like this, she used to turn her eyes to the window and see him sparring with his father, a man she hadn't seen since that auspicious night, and sometimes, when walking down the street she would catch glimpses of his face, peeks at blue gray eyes and midnight black hair.

And sometimes, she would confuse a stranger with him, like right now.

She could almost swear the man walking down the street was Ranma, with his big knapsack on his back and looking around as if seeing this city for the first time, indeed, she could almost affirm on her mother's memory that this man was Ranma, he had the same eyes, although dulled and sad, and the same gait to his walk that made him stand out like a sore thumb, yes, this man most definitely made her remember Ranma.

Maybe it was his face, set on a cold mask very much like the one Ranma used whenever he fought with a powerful opponent, or his clothes, that although almost totally black if not for a small piece of a white shirt peeking under his large coat, seemed to be chinese in origin, a little more classic, maybe, but chinese nonetheless.

Or it could be his body, a body that spoke of undreamed of strength kept behind an iron will, or his hands full of calluses that held a petite timber staff with a daintiness almost unbelievable for a man of his bulk.

Perhaps it was the way her heart started beating faster when she saw his mouth set in a straight line, as if preparing himself for a confrontation beyond whatever else she had seen in her whole life, or the manner in which her head felt light when his eyes made direct contact with hers.

No matter what was the cause, he couldn't be Ranma, because Ranma would've stopped and talk to her, even if only to say something like "Hello", and this man didn't.

But most importantly, this man couldn't be Ranma, because she had seen Ranma die with her own eyes.

And so she went on her way, remembering the past and trying to picture a blissful future for herself.

And as she walked away she didn't see the man turn around and look intently at her back for a long time.

And she didn't hear the whispered "Nabiki. . .?" that came out of his lips.

No, she didn't notice any of this, for she just kept walking away.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

A crystal door is, probably, one of the greatest inventions of man.

Or that was what  Ukyo thought, for with a crystal door you could watch the world go by even if you're bound to stay at the same place everyday.

And so, between preparing the numerous orders of okonomiyaki for her regulars, and a light snack for herself whenever there was a respite in the business she stared out her glass door and saw the pedestrians walk by her restaurant.

And she remembered times when most people ran instead of walking calmly, a time when no one dared to touch an innocent from fear of Ranma finding out, and getting payment for the felony.

And her eyes misted as so many time before when she thought of sunny smiles and a young voice calling her 'Ucchan', Ucchan, only Ranma called her that, and only Ranma was allowed to call her that.

Even if after Ranma's death her father had allowed her to live her life as a girl, and even as the boys at school asked her to go out, she knew her heart missed Ranma.

Her Ranchan, the boy that stole her heart when they were but kids, and stole it again when she saw him after ten years of training, a boy that could make her hopes heave and her heart beat faster whenever he just smiled at her and called her cute.

And no matter that a whole year had passed, she missed the man that occupied all her night dreams, and brought her all her nightmares.

Nightmares of a handsome face scrunched up in fury, memories of blue gray eyes looking at her with defiance and braveness, memoirs of a sad voice that told her the only truth she didn't know, or didn't remember about Ranma "I don't beg for nothing Ukyo"

And again her tears fell, but this time they weren't tears of regret or remorse, but tears of happiness for she knew that even if it had took him his own life, he had found freedom.

Freedom from a life she now realized had to have been hard.

A life she didn't make any easier, even when she claimed to be the cute fiancée, the understanding fiancée.

Tears for a friend that had spent his whole life bound to responsibilities not chosen by him, to chains that prevented him from soaring the skies and finding happiness, a happiness he only displayed once in a while when fighting.

Tears for a man that passed away in a blaze of glory.

Without begging for anything.

And so her tears fell, and when she saw the man staring at her restaurant from across the street she thought she was dreaming, for that man looked exactly like Ranma used to.

That was, if Ranma used to dress all in black and carry a small staff in one hand.

And as she saw his eyes she knew the truth and ran across the street as if shot by a gun, for there was Ranma.

But when she reached the opposite sidewalk the man had disappeared, and she was left with the cry of "Ranchan!" still fresh on her lips.

And Ranma went on his way down memory line.

And ignored Ukyo's tears, for he had learnt that not all tears were real.

And if she had forced her mother to make him commit suicide, then her tears weren't real.

They simply mustn't be real, for if they were real then she was glad he had returned.

And if she was glad he had returned, she hoped he had done it for her.

And he didn't.

So his legs carried him away. 

And his eyes blinked trying to dispel the image of a broken Ukyo crying on her knees for a lost dream, for a lost love.

And wiped his suddenly moist eyes, damn that dust.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

The business was good, in fact it was even better than when Ranma was alive, the restaurant was bustling with chatter of salary men and house wives searching for a piece of tranquility and a good meal, and the kitchen was busily preparing countless orders of ramen and other chinese delicacies for those that searched for a little taste of foreign cuisine.

But even if the floors were immaculate due to Mousse's constant cleaning of the place, and even if most of the tables were old, an occurrence that was rare in the time when Ranma was still alive, Cologne knew that life was empty.

For even if money poured into her hands as never before, and even if her great granddaughter dedicated all her strength at working properly and training vigorously after work hours, she still saw her suffering behind those purple eyes that used to shine with joy whenever a pigtailed man came through the front door and asked for a free bowl of food to satiate a hunger that seemed endless.

And so she tried to teach her progeny all the secrets she kept inside her mind and heart, all those secrets accumulated for over three thousand years of amazon history, but as she talked to Shampoo about honor and responsibility, her heart still ached for a young boy turned man in one single night, and her eyes blurred with unshed tears whenever she remembered the tale told to her by two young amazons, of a blue eyed boy doing the impossible, of a young man, barely more than a kid, defeating the phoenix king Saffron, and so she trained her great granddaughter and hoped for another warrior to come along, a warrior that could be the equal to that same boy, a martial artist that would surpass Ranma.

So she continued to cook, and ignored all that chatter around her, all that noise of common men and women that occupied her restaurant and wasted their lives in ordinary activities, and when she turned to give an order for Mousse to deliver to a waiting table she saw him frozen up, as if he was seeing all of his ancestors together, and as she followed his line of sight the bowl fell from her nerveless fingers, for there, against the front entrance, stood Ranma, the same Ranma she had been thinking about not even a full minute ago, with eyes that seemed somehow sadder, somehow richer, and with a body sporting copious new scars.

And although the ki felt different form what she remembered, as if he had a piece of Happosai inside now, her mind told her this man was Ranma, maybe colder, as if he had perfected the soul of ice beyond whatever levels she thought possible, and at the same time a Ranma that appeared to be warmer, stronger, as if he had somehow become a person the likes of that Tendo Kasumi.

So with her mouth agape and her eyes moist she tried to approach him, only to watch him turn around and leave the restaurant without making any noise, as if he had been a real vision conjured by sad eyes.

And as she got atop her cane and pogo'ed to the front gate, she saw but the back of a man that didn't want to turn back and see old memories, and she saw the way his feet moved as if he was floating on a cloud instead of walking on solid ground.

And at the bottom of her heart she knew, knew Ranma had changed drastically, knew Ranma had become the man that she had envisioned the day she was beaten by a child using the cat fist.

And knew with all her soul that Ranma didn't come back for Shampoo.

And she once again returned to her kitchen to brew a special mix of tea, three thousand years of amazon history dedicated to a single pot of tea.

And three hundred years of existence she felt heavier this day than ever before.

But Ranma didn't turn back.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Slash upwards, switch to defense, slash downward, switch back to an offensive stance.

Strike quickly, faster with each thrust, then back to the first position.

Parry, disarm, and now the final stroke.

His opponent is down.

How common had become this routine of training everyday, of being the best when there where no more challenges to his godly skill, maybe that peasant Hibiki could be called something of a challenge, but he just took the hits and counter-attacked with the strength of a possessed man.

So tiring, so very tiring this existence of defeating foe after foe, opponent after opponent.

But keep on training, always training.

For even if he already was the best, as proven by the countless trophies set upon the shelf at school, and of all those medals kept safely guarded at home, he felt the uselessness of these.

For that vagrant Saotome still didn't think it wise to approach Nerima again, no doubt in fear of his noble fighting spirit and his righteous delivery of punishment.

So what if his peers at school feared him? Hypocrites, they cheered him whenever he fought for their name yet despised him when he did something not told to him by some lowly miscreant that dared to think he could order him around.

To boss him! The blue thunder, as if he would ever take orders from a man of such a low position.

And so train, and keep on training.

For the sorcerer will be back someday, bringing with him his goddess, and he would now free her, take her away from that scoundrel's control, and then she would be his.

Only his! For no one else could even hope to be the recipient of her lovely smiles and warm arms.

As it was predestined by the heavens the moment he laid his noble eyes upon her gracious figure and lively eyes.

Keep on training, for his tigress should be freed from that wrongdoer Hibiki that dared to stand in the way of true love, fool even the sorcerer ran from his might, was he to be afraid of such a sinner as he?

Keep on training, to become the best, to surpass all those samurai of old.

To become him, only him, only Tatewaki Kuno.

Keep on training. . .

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

Movements, katas, practice.

The drill of everyday, the thrill of teaching young boys the way of the fist, the way of the warrior.

And when classes are over walk back to home, to warm smiles and sad eyes, to hot soup and warm sake. To loving daughters and missing friends.

And find a way to keep on living, to overcome this great sadness that threatens to swallow you whole, to find the ability to help those you love the most, those you would give your own life for.

Return home, to find Akane training at the yard with a fire you had never seen before in her brown eyes , to find Nabiki cooking in the kitchen while she tries to fulfill the gap left behind by her sister's leave, and to discover that Kasumi had decided to visit, to speak with Tofu about all, and about nothing.

Return to a home of gray walls and wooden floors, to a house of warm couches and cold futons.

Return to a home full of poor memory and rich moments.

Return home, and sit at the porch besides an old shoji board and remember.

 Remember time spent with a friend trying to unite the schools, remember masters that gave you nightmares, remember the smiles of a dead wife that made you the happiest man in the world, remember times when your little girls would laugh and play without worries in this world, remembrance the smile of your youngest daughter as you taught her the art, be reminiscent of twinkling eyes on your middle daughter's face when she saw Ranma playing carelessly on the backyard, and cry for the memory of a man that turned you back to the man you used to be, the man you are again.

And so, move your legs and walk, watching the scenery surrounding you, watching the pedestrians go by, do not stare it is rude, what would your wife think if she saw you staring at stranger's faces?, and breath, live, carry on the weight of knowing your own blindness destroyed your family, and the hope of knowing your eyes were now open.

Keep on walking, with the head tall and proud and greet those few known faces that walk past you.

Keep going, keep living, for even if Genma disappeared you knew of your friend's strength of will, of his defiance to all rules, even the rule that every living being must die.

Breath, in and out, and stand waiting for the light to change and the chance to cross the street, walk, mixed with the rest of the people, and keep on walking.

Don't stare at that man in the black coat, don't remember the way the old master wielded a pipe the same way this man carries a staff, keep on walking, don't stare at his blue eyes, they aren't that uncommon.

Feel your heartbeat, steady, steady, keep on walking.

Don't look at him even if his face is turned to yours, ignore him, it is ill-mannered to stare.

Keep on walking, for that man isn't Ranma, that man can't be Ranma.

Keep remembering Ranma died on your house, Ranma was burnt with your dojo.

And wipe your eyes.

And blink away those tears, you're a martial artist, you should have better control than this.

Just keep on walking. . . just walking. . .

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A.N.:  When I was almost finished writing this chapter I noticed it was bigger than any of the previous ones, so I chose to divide it into two parts, (A and B respectively) so I'm posting part A right now, part B should be up real soon, it's almost finished as it is, but I want to make a few corrections to it first as a couple scenes don't satisfy me completely, sorry for the wait, and remember, just keep on walking. . .

With that said there's only one more thing to say. . .

Bans. . .  off!


	8. Chapter Six Part B: With Certain air to ...

A transited street, a well known way.

Familiar faces, new buildings.

A majestic sight for tired eyes but indeed a poor view for lonely souls.

A city bustling in activity, a man waiting in the desert.

A feeling of wrongness permeating the air, a sentiment of unbecoming.

A mind trying to grasp the secrets held by men, the lies told by gods.

And finally the light of knowing the truth doesn't lie out there somewhere, for it's been found inside your soul, your very own being.

The trip back home, old acquaintances met once again, new memories made forever.

To stare upon the school of your childhood and see new windows and old trees.

The need to remember a promise, the pain of knowing that vow remains unfulfilled.

So, Ranma walked the streets of Nerima once again, with a heavy black coat used to cover old scars and new blemishes.

The memory of a lifetime spent at this same town enveloping his hazy mind in a cold blanket, and the promise remained unfulfilled.

It was time to start fighting back, to reclaim what was once lost, it was time to win.

And Ranma Saotome always wins.

Even if he had lost all held dear to him to accomplish it.

He would win, no matter the cost.

For the hero is back.

I've seen so much

A Ranma ½ Fan fiction

----------------------------------------           Chapter Six B  -----------------------------------------------

**********     With certain air to you     **********

There he went again, always walking along those same streets, never looking back, never remembering the way people used to look up at him.

And the pain sometimes became unbearable, and the guilt on occasions became a great burden, too great a burden.

For Ranma had asked for her help, for a moment of peace among a chaotic life, and she had dared to ignore him.

It was easier that way, ignoring the outside world and dreaming, she had always dreamed about the past, and had sometimes even dreamed about the future, a future she now had achieved but despised more than anything else, for it had come at a great cost, a life had to be given in exchange for her own happiness, and for that she could not, dared not be happy.

Because if she accepted this happiness of knowing the man she had loved so dearly all these years was finally hers then she would be betraying his memory, the memory of gray blue eyes that shone in the afternoon's light and sang with joy in the dawn of each day.

Because if she let this joy of having a new family, her own family, take over her being and heart, then she would be forgetting the sight of a chiseled body training until exhaustion took over in the dojo, the remembrance of black hair flapping in the air.

And so she regretted her feelings of happiness, her desire of living life once again.

But still, she dared not go back to dreaming, to always dreaming.

For the real world must not be ignored, a lesson she had paid for in tears and nightmares.

And she started seeing the world in a new light, as if by Ranma's death she was reborn a new person, a being able to love and live and see.

And at that precise moment she saw what was rapidly becoming a common sight in Nerima, she saw Tendo Soun walking along the street as he always did when classes were over, and she could see the way his shoulders were dropped below their usual level of confidence that marked him as a powerful martial artist, and the way his feet moved heavily on the floor belaying the great pain he suffered inside.

And she despaired because he had not cried, not since the day Ranma died, for a tear was never coming out of his eyes, and a whimper would never escape his lips.

And so she remembered the way he used to be, with his mustache always well cared for and his hair well brushed even if the world was about to end.

And she always cried for him, for a broken man that had lost everything that mattered to him, but dared not claim it back.

And she always stared at him, seeing in his sculptured body, which had regained that same firmness she remembered from previous years, the hurting he so well hid from the rest of the world.

And so her eyes followed him as he crossed the street and turned, if briefly, to look at a man walking beside him.

And her breath caught in her throat and her eyes became moist once again, a thing that hadn't happened since she cried all her remaining tears in a rainy night.

And she raised quickly from her seat by the window and practically ran to the front door hoping she could reach that man in time and talk to him.

But when she reached the street it was empty, devoid of people and the man was not seen anywhere.

And still she was sure of it, surer than she ever was before, Ranma was back.

She, Tendo Kasumi, had seen Ranma walking beside her own father.

Then she remembered those commentaries, those accusations.

And her tears fell anew with even more intensity than before.

May god forgive those poor boys, Ranma was back. . .

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It was a dark room, always a dark room at home.

For the despair never left, the loneliness never actually went away and despite it all, despite the pain of knowing her life had turned more solitary, more unclear Kuno Kodachi lived on.

To breathe, to cry in dark nights on cold beds, to watch those she cared about leave her behind, alone, always alone, despised by most, feared by others, but always alone…

However she still remembered a time when this was not the case, a time when someone cared enough for her to protect her from a fall that, if it wouldn't had killed her, it'd hurt a lot, everybody else would just let her fall but not him, not his sweet blue eyes and warm smile, not his strong arms and comforting words, his knight in shining armor, his ray of hope when the world had just turned against her, he was there for her in a moment, he was there for her whenever she needed comfort, if only to say hello, oh but what a bright day it'd be when she finally heard him say "I love you" a sweet dream, a melancholic memory that would never come now, all because of that harridan, that mannish chef who dared to dream of taking him away form her warm embrace, all because of that Kuonji…

And she tried to take her revenge, to make her suffer the same fate her Ranma-sama had suffered on that rainy night, she attacked her once and again, and damn those that protected her, damn her brother for celebrating her beloved's demise, damn that Tendo girl for not giving in the least, damn that gaijin whore for trying to take her Ranma… damn herself for not being there when he made that fateful choice….

And she had failed him, it was no use trying to kid herself, she had failed, not only in stopping him from taking his own life, but in avenging his death too.

It didn't matter anymore, he was gone and she was a failure, even if her beloved would return he wouldn't recognize her anymore, because even she didn't.

And it was past time to let go of the past, a long time ago she would have laughed if someone would of told her that she's forget her dear Ranma, not anymore.

For she had changed, and in changing she had found a small measure of peace her life was lacking since her mother passed away, and as she had done with her death she will do for her beloved.

Yes, Ranma would be forgiven for leaving her behind.

Forgiveness she would give him, forgetfulness never.

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

He had seen some of his old acquaintances, and he had remembered their faces, he had remembered the tears on Ukyo's eyes the night he found peace, and the sadness behind the quiet strength Soun had shown him when he took the sword, he had seen the old ghoul, looking even older than he remembered, older than he thought possible, and Mousse was still the same blind fool pushing for Shampoo, who still had that same smile and that confident gait.

But there was still a person left to see, a person his heart cried for him to see even when his mind refused to let him, even when his legs dared not move beyond the spot they were occupying, for if she didn't remember him, or even worse if she didn't want him, he wouldn't know what to do.

And despite having conquered some of his greatest fears through sheer will force, he dared not confront this one, he could not face his Akane and try and see love behind anger as he so commonly did before.

For if the anger was missing, maybe, just maybe, the love would be as well, and if the love was lacking….

It was better not to think about it, he had faced the Orochi down, he had fought against musk and phoenix for her, of course there would be at least some feeling left in her, some feeling left for him.

For how could he be a man, a real man among men, if he couldn't tell her what he felt in his heart? If he couldn't hold her, even if it was just to let her tears fall on his shoulders?

No, he had to do it, before he lost his nerve, before he lost the strength he had acquired to come here, he had to see her eyes and smell her perfume, that same air of moist evenings and cool mornings that seemed to always be with her.

And there was no use in prolonging what he had to do….

So, he started once again in the road he used to take so long ago, down the same path most folks saw him walking….

For the dojo laid just a couple blocks ahead…

A.N.: Whoa… iyt's been a long time since I last updated, I'm sorry to those who wanted to read more of this story, and to those who didn't… Well why are you reading it then? What can I say? Real life is a bit*h all the time and between work and school I hadn't had time to write much (well nothing in fact), but don't worry I got a muse for Christmas and I assure you So much 07 is almost ready, and it starts the end of this story (yeah, it is a story, and it has a beginning and an end) I'll update it tomorrow or the day after, again, please forgive me for taking so long, sweet reading and remember, keep on walking… maybe one day you'll reach heaven.

Bans… off!


	9. Chapter Seven: Every Night

Silence permeated the air; the loneliness seemed to be a living thing, waiting for him to commit a single mistake, waiting, always waiting.

And a storm approached the city, a light rain maybe, but it would change this new order, this new way of living life Nerima had used by so long.

And a small breeze washed away the dirt from the buildings, and a drizzle gave the atmosphere a surreal feeling, like something out of a movie that was never quite finished.

But the silence was what his mind caught the most, and the silence was what gave the youngest Tendo daughter a clue that something big was about to happen.

And it seemed as if nature itself had held her breathe, for not even that puff of air made any sound.

I've seen so much

A Ranma ½ Fan fiction

And while Kasumi hurried back to the dojo, walked hurriedly down the street scaring those few that knew her, as much as the small frown upon her delicate face seemed to speak of disaster, and while she thought of why he'd come back, what reason did he have to come back now? And despite all her doubts she knew the reason and her pace hurried a bit more, for she knew why he had come back, and she knew what he'd found, and she desired to fly there, desired to be able to beat him there, for she was knowing in her heart that something big was about to happen.

While Ryoga wandered those quiet streets he didn't recognize, thinking about Akane, about her smile, and trying to picture the place that seemed so familiar to him, the rain started to fall.

----------------------------------------           Chapter Seven -----------------------------------------------

A small amazon group sat around a table, drinking tea and thinking of those past times when life was just a tiny bit crazier, when consequences didn't matter as much and business was just a useful excuse to follow a boy around, when fighting on the streets was not only accepted but expected from them, when Ranma was still among them, when Ranma was still one of them without being an amazon.

And a once glorious chef now laid on her bed, with her small restaurant closed for public, a tiny sign reading personal business all the signals of her still being there, with curtains closed and gates shut, thinking of times when school was a place to see her fiancée, where it didn't matter as much if she got a degree or not, for her life was already decided, for her then by her after.

**********     Every night     **********

And while memories were relived and old times were remembered, a young man walked along a gray street, thinking of times when life was easier, when he could do anything his heart told him to, anything but accept his love for her, for that girl with sweet smiles and angry eyes, for that woman that had held his heart for so long without knowing, perhaps without willing to do so, and his memory called forth images of past challengers for her, of times were fighting was a tool used to protect her, when saying the wrong thing at the wrong time was every day's happenstance and the sights of the city that followed those times were peaceful.

When tears were just a rumor, something made up by those that dared not defy destiny nor fight fate, when a mother was always present, always threatening but at the same time loving, when a father snored and insulted, and accepted in his own personal way.

When a broken man cried fountains whenever something he didn't want to happen happened, when a girl smiled to the morning, when another girl  smirked in that especially womanly way of hers.

Thinking of times when this way was walked every day, when familiar faces smiled at him, or frowned at his haggard appearance, when a doctor gave kind smiles and subtle advice, and danced, danced with a skeleton when Kasumi came by, of times when a panda was a common sight, when a guy turning into a pig was a rival instead of someone who could not, dared not reach out for friendship.

And gray blue eyes looked at the skies and a bitter sweet smile graced those manly lips when a stray cloud reminded him of a duck, of times when a blind guy fought him with all his worth for a girl that didn't acknowledge his existence.

The tears didn't fall, they all had fallen already, but his heart ached when he remembered times when his first love, his only love, smiled at him just because he told her she looked cute with a smile, with the remembrance of that same girl breaking bricks and hitting training dummies with the cry of "Ranma no baka!"

Ranma no baka… nobody had called him in a long time, nobody but her was allowed to call him that, it was as sweet as a love declaration, analogous to the confirmation that she did care, that he mattered, even if most of the time those brown eyes of hers seemed sad, and even if those chocolate pools looked at him as if wishing she hadn't met him in her life, he knew it mattered, he knew she cared.

And the steps were lighter after that, the smiles a bit truer, for if she had cared so long ago, if she had thought about him even once in this long time then the fight was worth fighting again, the phoenix could die again, for she would remember him, even if just to hit him and tell him to leave and never come back, but he would know the truth that had stole his sleep for so long, and he'd know peace at last.

Home is where the heart resides, and while he had spent so much time away from this city, away from these streets he thought this was home, she was home.

And if she was home, could he ask for something else?

So he walked, on the sidewalk instead of the fence now, with a gait that spoke of power and hardships, with a step that reminded those who knew him once of his ability in the arts, of his art.

With eyes that spoke of a life lost and of lives found. With a face hardened by the weather and softened by the memories. 

A whole man, a whole person, someone who had found himself, who had found his truth in the depths of his soul, who had faced his fears and emerged victorious, someone who had known loneliness and remained sane.

And people that had lived at Nerima for a long time huddled to the window, to watch upon gray streets and silent ways, to observe a man that hadn't been seen for so long among the living that most considered him a rumor, a dream his minds, tired of every day's events, had called up for them to dream, for them to know there was something beyond the gray existence of routines and realities.

And while children saw him and thought of novels where great heroes had walked alone to their doom, with a confidence that no one showed and smirking at the face of death, those that did remember him saw a man walking to heaven, a man defying death with his very existence.

A man who could jump a couple stories high, who could take blows that destroyed concrete with sheer strength and moved so fast that their eyes weren't able to see him, a man who turned into a girl with a little cold water, and who, despite all that, had made friends with the city, for crime was almost non-existent while he lived there, who could dream of defying law when such a man despised those that did it?

[------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------]

The house rested silent at the end of the street, with gray walks where newer patches could still be seen and great oak doors leading to the inside of a peaceful room.

And while it wasn't always so, there still was a big patch of ground unoccupied, a big yard where now flowers grew up and the grass seemed greener than anywhere.

And tan walls watched those inside, as a silent guardian watching over those he had to keep safe, where three girls had known life and death, where three women had found hope and despair. Where a girl had known hatred and love could be the same thing, where a young woman had known loneliness didn't have to be the norm of every day, and where a man had know happiness was just waiting to be found, and could be taken away as easily as it came.

A radio sounded in the background, an old melody that hung in the air, a song about nothing and everything, that talked of love found and love lost without anyone hearing it, and a man sat reading the newspaper and remembering an old friend who was always a child, who didn't want responsibilities, who escaped from them as fast as he could… and who accepted a great responsibility knowingly and happily.

And every now and then he looked over to the small table resting on the center of the room where an old postcard laid, an old warning of fantasies about to know on the door, an old sign of things that the eyes saw, but the mind refused to believe.

He didn't know why he had taken it out of his room, what had taken him over so as to have it resting where everybody could read it, as it hadn't mean a single thing for a long time, and it for sure didn't mean a thing now.

And the black kanji spoke of a truth of long ago.

The panda seemed the same, even the card wasn't as yellowish as he remembered it to be.

And unwillingly he read it aloud, "Taking Ranma from China".

And his heart jumped when a knock was heard on the door.

A.N.: Oooh I'm so bad, leaving this right there, a friend told me of a great way to end this story, and I'll try and apply it on the next chapter as it is better than the way I was originally planning on finishing it.

Yeah it turned out to be a Ranma—Akane match up, even if my original intention was to make it a Ranma—Nabiki one, however it seems that they indeed do belong together (at least on this story).

Who knocked?

What would Ranma find out when he reached the Tendo home?

Why is Kasumi so worried?

Find out in the next chapter! (Hopefully it won't take me so long to post it….)

See you….

Bans… off!


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